Sorceress (Worm x Dungeons & Dragons)
by bking4
Summary: What if the reason Eden perished in her crash was that there were forces unknown which had previously crashed with the entities? What if those forces wanted to give power to the people being attacked by the Entities? How would things be different if Myrddin wasn't wrong? Taylor Hebert's life is about to change. Officially dead as of 11/26/18.
1. Character Creation 1-1

Disclaimer: I do not own Worm. Wilbow owns Worm. This is good, because he did a better job than I ever could.

Disclaimer #2: I do not own Dungeons & Dragons. Wizards of the Coast, and by extension Hasbro, owns Dungeons & Dragons. This is good, because they did a better job than I ever could.

Disclaimer #3: This is my first attempt at fanficiton. Please be nice! Also, please feel free to give me any feedback you have, but try to keep it constructive. Thanks again!

* * *

I sat in front of the computer at the library, the one I normally use. The hard chair wasn't comfortable, but it was familiar. I spent most of my free time in the library. The time I didn't spend at the library, I spent at home reading a book I got from there. The library was one of the few places I felt nominally safe. As a result, the librarians all knew me by name, and I generally had first dibs on new books. Also, I almost always got the same computer, which was a small comfort. I'd take what I could get.

I hit the refresh button again. It felt like my life had been reduced to pushing this single button. Tap. Wait. No change. Tap. Wait. No change. If I wasn't already pretty sure I was crazy, doing this was going to drive me over the edge. I hit the refresh button for what must be the billionth time in the last 5 minutes, when I saw something I never expected to see. I didn't get a single new response once in the past week, but I just got one from some person named MisterM. _And I can read it._

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 **Topic: Does this make sense to anyone?**

 **In: Boards ► General ► Cape FAQs ► Questions**

 **CuriousCurls** (Original Poster)

Posted on January 13, 2011:

petranas charric ve sjek wux kampiun nomeno. si mi tesantamaso vur tir ti kampiun. si charis si mi ti repaiup. petranas letoclo.

 **(Showing Page 1 of 1)**

 **► MisterM**

Replied on January 20, 2011:

svaklar tira wux yor nomeno xanalre? svaust re wux?

 **► CuriousCurls** (Original Poster)

Replied on January 20, 2011:

vorqic hefoc creolna understands. sjek wux nafl shilta urcaxa nomeno, spol ve vi urgthumnum charric.

 **End of Page. 1**

* * *

My original message was simple. I was just asking if anyone could understand the writing, which was a rough translation of the sounds and symbols in my head into English. After spending an extra week in the hospital for saying there was a rushing sound and my head felt fuzzy, I wasn't willing to take another trip to the psych ward for thinking I made up a new language that didn't exist. As strange as it all was, I felt like there was a power behind both the words and the in feeling of waves crashing against each other in the middle of the ocean that I was constantly aware of. I didn't really believe it, but I was hoping that all this stuff meant I was a cape. That was a much better alternative to being crazy.

Originally, a mod had messaged me, telling me not to post spam, but when I said it was an experiment, and might have to do with a new cape's powers, they gave me a week before they shut down the thread. Today was the one week deadline. I had been getting pretty nervous, but I lucked out! This MisterM person had responded, and asked where I had learned this language. At first, only one thought filled my mind: _I'm not crazy._

But I had to be sure. So I responded again, to be absolutely positive it wasn't a fluke. I asked him to send me a private message. I crossed my fingers and went back to my routine of refreshing. Less than ten minutes later, and I felt my breath catch in my throat as I saw that I had a new message.

* * *

 **Private message from MisterM:**

 **MisterM:** Where did you learn this language? I'm incredibly impressed. Please don't be worried, I promise you it's a real language. It's just very old, and hasn't been used in a long time.

 **CuriousCurls:** It just came to me, recently. Just started popping up in my head. I know it isn't any language I've ever heard of. Truthfully? I'm really hopeful it turns out that this means I'm a cape... Do you think it's possible? Because it's either that, or I admit I'm crazy...

 **MisterM:** You aren't a cape. You're a wizard.

 **CuriousCurls:** You aren't really helping convince me that I'm not crazy.

* * *

I couldn't believe it. I had finally found someone that could possibly help explain all this absurdity, and they thought it was magic. I knew Myrddin was a pretty awesome cape, and that he wasn't the only one who thought his powers were actually magic. But it was more or less agreed upon by everyone else that it was just an eccentricity of his. People let him believe whatever he wanted because he was effective. He wasn't actually doing magic. He just had a few screws loose.

I looked up at the screen to reread the messages, ignoring the wetness near my eyes that were definitely not tears, when I noticed I had another, new private message. I opened it up, and almost fainted.

* * *

 **Private message from Myrddin:**

 **Myrddin *New Message*:** Hello. Sorry for the confusion, but I didn't want to out myself until I was sure you could speak the language, so I made a fake account. I get a lot of non-believers pretending to believe, and playing jokes, you see. You may be a non-believer, but you definitely aren't playing a joke. I am MisterM. I'm saddened to hear you don't believe me, but maybe if we could speak I could convince you, or at least test your powers? Because one way or another, I'd be willing to bet you DO have powers. At the very least, if your story is true, I might be able to learn something from you, even if you aren't a wizard as I believe you to be. How close do you live to your local Protectorate? I would love to schedule a meeting with you.

* * *

Myrddin wanted to meet with me. Myrddin. Wanted. To meet. With me. Taylor Hebert. _I don't care if he's in denial_ , I thought to myself, _and I don't care if he isn't the most famous hero ever. This is unbelievably, absurdly cool._ I responded to say that I lived in Brockton Bay, and getting to the Protectorate HQ would be a day trip for me, if he was really interested. I also messaged at least three moderators, confirming that the Myrddin that messaged me was verified, and were they sure, and were they really, really sure? They were sure. I almost fainted again.

Myrddin set up a meeting with me for two days from now, Saturday, tentatively at 3pm. He told me to tell the receptionist I was there to pick up my lost stuff, and to tell them I saw a cape named Gwydion. It just made the whole thing even more surreal. I had a momentary flash of concern, that this might somehow be another cruel prank from the Trio, but I hadn't seen them since I left the hospital. There's no way they could possibly know about this. I made this account a week ago on PHO! I tried to console myself, convince myself I was being paranoid. It worked slightly, calming me down enough to believe this might be real.

Myrddin then cautioned me not to try to use my powers on my own, at least until I could do power testing with the PRT, and he could be there for it. I sent a message with a promise I would wait, and told him I couldn't wait to meet him. Then I logged off PHO, and said goodbye to the librarian on duty today. The look on her face belied her surprise at seeing me smile so wide. It was like I was clamping down all my emotions, and trying to shove them all into my smile so they didn't go crazy.

I had trouble keeping all my emotions in check on the way home, but as soon as I had closed the door and was behind safe walls, I couldn't keep it in anymore. I locked the door behind me, and sagged against it. Today had just been too much. An emotional roller coaster of crazy, not crazy, crazy again, and then going right off the rails. I couldn't decide if I wanted to smile, cry, laugh, or do all three. In the end, I took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and walked the rest of the way inside the house.

Putting all of this out of my mind, in a feeble attempt to get some semblance of normalcy back, I went to make dinner. Dad would be home soon, and while I was staying home from school, I liked to have dinner ready for him. It wasn't anything fancy, just some pasta with sauce, and a salad, but every little thing I could do to make his life easier was something I'd be happy to do.

We hadn't had a good relationship for a long while. I was tempted to let things go back to the way they were, but I had decided this would be my wake up call. I had seen the look in his eyes while I lay in that hospital bed. The same look he had when he told me about Mom. I had spent a lot of time regretting, in the hospital bed. Regret over all the things I never told him. Regret over all the opportunities we missed out on. I had determined to rectify that. I was going to tell him about the bullying, about why I had closed up. It wasn't going to be easy, but it would be worth it.

 _Dad,_ I suddenly realized, _what the hell am I going to tell him?_ Could I tell him I was a cape? Should I tell him I was a cape? I definitely wasn't going to tell him I was a wizard, of all things. I scoffed at the idea. I considered, very briefly, that I would be a witch, not a wizard, but I didn't like the sound of that either. Then I put myself back on track. Dad. I still hadn't decided what to tell him, or how to do so, when suddenly the door opened.

"Taylor!" I heard my Dad call out from the front door. "I'm home!" Yep. Still had no idea how to do this. Going in blind probably wasn't smart, but it would have to work.


	2. Character Creation 1-2

Disclaimer: I do not own Worm. Wilbow owns Worm. This is good, because he did a better job than I ever could.

Disclaimer #2: I do not own Dungeons & Dragons. Wizards of the Coast, and by extension Hasbro, owns Dungeons & Dragons. This is good, because they did a better job than I ever could.

Disclaimer #3: This is my first attempt at fanficiton. Please be nice! Also, please feel free to give me any feedback you have, but try to keep it constructive. Thanks again!

* * *

As luck would have it, I didn't actually need to tell Dad anything. That night at dinner, I was roaring with energy. I was having a hard time keeping the rushing sound in the back of my mind. It was as though the fact that I was nearly certain I was a cape made it hard not to use my powers, now that I knew for sure that they were there. And honestly, I was sure. I could feel it. All the different possibilities. All the ways I could mold my power, say a few words, make a few gestures, and _things_ would happen. My mind felt like it had pins and needles in it, the same feeling you'd get in your arm when you slept on it wrong.

As a result, it wasn't really a surprise to me when, at dinner that night, something bad happened. I was enjoying conversation with Dad, muted as it was, about his day at work. I was so focused on trying to have a real conversation with him, but it was hard. We were out of practice. It was so easy to fall back into old patterns and to just sit near each other in awkward silence.

As I was thinking on how difficult it all was, I finished the dregs of my drink and wanted another cup of water. As though it were the most natural thing in the world, I breathed a few words, made a handsign, and my third hand, the spectral one _obviously,_ reached out to grab me a new cup.

It was at this point that something felt off. It took me a moment to figure out why. Whereas before, Dad and I had been sitting in an uncomfortable silence, now it was pushing down on me. I looked up, and saw his face was full of confusion, fear, and not the least bit of anger. He had gone stock still, and was holding his breath. I was about to open my mouth to ask if he was okay, when I realized, or rather I remembered, that people don't actually have spectral third hands with a gorgeous purple sheen. But the rushing in my head had subsided slightly and, honestly, I felt better.

Dad shouted. Loudly.

"What the HELL IS THAT?!" In doing so, he startled me. My spectral third hand jerked in surprise, then dissipated, and the glass of water it was bringing to me fell on my lap. I frowned at my now messy clothes. With a wave and a whisper, I felt a slight ripple of energy, and my clothes were completely dry again. Wow. My powers were actually pretty useful. What's more, the rushing had subsided again, to even more manageable levels.

In fact, the rushing had subsided enough for me to realize what a tremendously horrible situation this was. My head cleared, and it was like I the difference in the mornings before I had time to put on my glasses. I could easily think for the first time all day. Yeah, I could think before, but the rushing and possibilities had made it all hazy and indistinct. The rushing was still there, but not as incessant. The waves broke a little more gently. I gauged, roughly, that I had about enough room in my head for two more of the little powers. I could feel numerous possibilities, just waiting to be called on.

I also felt like there were more powerful options at my disposal. I had two.. Holes? Slots? Slots that were available of a higher power usage. I could use that to fuel more impressive, or energy intensive, powers. I wondered what-.

"TAYLOR." Oh, right. Dad. I had gotten lost in my power, in discovering it's untold mysteries. But my Dad was looking at me, slack jawed, and shocked. And possibly a little angry. At least, I hoped the vein on his head meant he was angry, because if he had a stroke I don't know if I could handle it. So, I decided, he was angry. Yeah, I probably deserved that one. I took a deep breath.

"Please don't freak out?" I pleaded. "I think I'm a cape." _Smooth, Taylor, smooth._ That was potentially the worst way to handle this. Dammit, why was I so bad at communicating? If I honestly, answered, I knew it was a lack of practice, but that didn't help me now!

"You think you're a cape." Dad drawled, looking pointedly at the floating, purple spectral hand, then looking at my suspiciously dry clothes. "Whatever gave you that idea."

"I wasn't honestly sure!" I began again, "Even after I came back from the psych ward, I could still hear the rushing, I just figured out how to ignore it, and then a week ago I started thinking in a different language, and seeing strange symbols in my head, but I'm not crazy, I'm not! And so I posted in PHO, and nothing happened for _a week_ and I thought I really was crazy. But Myrddin messaged me! Dad, _Myrddin_! He told me he thought I was a wizard, which is stupid, because magic isn't real, but that maybe I was a cape. He asked me not to try anything until I saw him on Saturday, which-. Oh yeah he made a meeting with me at the PRT on Saturday to test if I had powers, but I used them on accident right now I swear! I just needed the water, and it was over there, and the rushing was so loud and it just made sense, and I… I… I'm babbling." I took a deep breath and looked down at the table. For a long time neither of us said anything. The longer the silence, the greater my fear that he was going to be mad. I couldn't make myself look up at him.

Finally, he asked, with a slight waver to his voice "Were you going to tell me?"

" _Yes._ " I stressed. I put as much emotion into that one word as I could, and it still wasn't enough. "I was trying to figure out how to tell you tonight or tomorrow, so you could come to the meeting with me Saturday. I would have told you sooner, but saying it made it real. And that meant that if I wasn't a cape, my hopes would be crushed. But if I didn't say it out loud, then I wasn't really hoping for it. Which is dumb, I know. I'm sorry." I looked up at him then, meeting his eyes. I was surprised by what I saw in them.

Danny Hebert, my father, is not an overly large man. Some might say he's rather skinny. Balding, slightly, but not so much as to actually be bald. But say what you will about Danny Hebert, he had presence. He could command a negotiation, or brighten up a room with his smile. I hadn't seen him smile in a long, long time. Not like he was smiling now.

"You really were going to tell me, huh?" He asked me. "You know, I know we haven't talked much lately. I don't really know what's going on with school. Mostly we just kind of sit here, together in the house. That's my fault as much as it is yours. I miss your Mom so damn much, kiddo, that I think I've been kind of a bad parent."

"Dad, no, you -"

"Don't interrupt. We both know it's true." his eyes took on a fierce glare. "That ends now. You are the most important thing in the world to me. You always have been, even if I got a little side tracked for a bit, wallowing in myself. But knowing you, now that you've got powers, you're going to want to use them. Be a hero." He looked at me, then, with an eyebrow raised.

"Uhm." That's me, eloquent spokesperson, wordsmith extraordinaire. "I hadn't really gotten that far? I'm still on the whole 'glad I'm not really crazy' thing." I smiled sheepishly as I ducked my head. "But I have wanted to be a hero since I was little. I doubt the Wards will want me, but maybe I could go independent? Or find another team, a small one, one I could trust. I think that might be nice." I doubted it. Who would want me on their team? I didn't even know what my powers were. Besides, I wasn't really sure I could trust any team I joined. I was honestly a little apprehensive about joining the Wards, even if I got an offer. Which I knew I wouldn't

Dad chuckled in response. "I haven't forgotten, don't you worry. I'm pretty sure those Armsmaster underwear are still in your room." His eyes took on a teasing twinkle, as he smirked at me. I turned a bright red, glad that he was the only one who knew. I also promised myself to burn that particular pair as soon as possible.

The look on his face told me exactly what he was thinking. "It doesn't matter how old they get, embarrassing your kids, and watching them turn that particular shade of red is one of the greatest joys found in being a parent." He and Mom used to say it all the time. It was the bane of my existence, as a kid, how much they enjoyed embarrassing me. And how good they were at it, especially when they worked as a team.

I regained what little composure I had to begin with and asked, meekly "So does this mean you'll come to the PRT with me on Saturday? My meeting with Myrddin is at three."

Dad sighed. "Of course I'll come with you. And if you want to join the Wards, that's definitely something we can ask about, or we can ask about our other options. I don't know much about law, and I don't want to mess this up. Maybe I should call Alan, see if he can help, or if he knows anybody who can?"

"Well," I began. Silently to myself I thought _Now or never_. "You know how you said we haven't been great at that whole 'dad-daughter communication' thing?" When he nodded, with a confused frown on his face, I continued "Well I think we should fix that. Like, right now. I really don't want you to get mad, at me or anyone else, but I think you deserve to know the truth. I mean, if you can handle my third purple hand, hopefully you can handle everything else." I tried for a small smile. It wasn't entirely unsuccessful.

Dad did his best to give me an encouraging smile. Properly motivated, I took a deep breath, slowly let it out, and told Dad everything. It was a long, long night.


	3. Character Creation 1-3

Dad had been pretty furious, all things considered. Which wasn't really all that surprising. I had to calm him down no less than three times as he threatened to call up some boys from the Docks and go "have a nice long chat with Alan." Every time I had asked Dad to remember that up until today he didn't know what was going on, so how likely was it that Alan did? And anyways, what good would it do? And each time Dad slowly calmed down, and I continued my story, until eventually something would come up that would make him start ranting and raving again.

None of this was even remotely close to how worried and, if I was willing to admit it, scared I was when I had shown my Dad the notebook. All the recordings I had made of everything the Trio did to me over the past few months. Dad had gone stone still, eyes cold, as he leafed through each page, slowly, one at a time. He then stood up, and walked to the basement. I almost followed him a few minutes later to check on him, when I heard the first crash. A series of crashes, clangs, and curses filled the Hebert household for at least 20 minutes. When Dad came back upstairs, both of us pretended nothing at all out of the ordinary had happened. It was at that point I decided I would most definitely not be telling him the specifics from all of last year. I didn't offer to tell him, and he didn't ask.

After I had finished detailing my miseries to him, we spent a good hour or so apologizing to each other. Apparently, we each felt like the past few years had been mostly our own fault. It almost became one giant pity party. Before that could happen, Dad scooped me up in a big hug, said it was time to go to bed before we started beating ourselves up to much, and carried me upstairs. I wanted to feel indignant at being treated like a child, but I was just a little too emotionally exhausted. And honestly? It was nice. Warm, safe, and comfortable.

The next day, Friday, Dad had to go off to work again, and I didn't have to go to school. I knew he didn't like it, but work was something of a necessity. He was going to be taking off early on Saturday as it was. But for the first time in a long time, we both smiled as he left for work. I was actually looking forward to seeing him when he came home too. Apparently, explosive heart to heart conversations are a good way of clearing the air.

All that isn't to say I didn't mind having the house to myself for a while, though. I had a big day ahead of me planned. I had promised Myrddin that I wouldn't attempt to use my powers until I had seen him, but that was before I had accidentally used them. I had a duty now to practice my powers, so I didn't accidentally use them and hurt someone before I went to the PRT. At least, that's what I told myself to justify it. Mostly, I was just excited.

I sat down at the kitchen table, across from a plate, a plastic cup, and a pillow. I was determined to summon my third hand to pick it up. Once I could manifest it reliably, then I would determine everything else about it. How strong was it? How far could it go? Did it have to be purple? I had so many questions that needed to be answered!

Unfortunately, try as I might to make it appear, there was no third hand. I focused my brain as hard as I could, but it just wouldn't work. I tried to visualize it, which was easy enough. It had been such a distinctive shade of purple. It was as though my power refused to cooperate.

After a half hour of staring at the objects, I eventually gave in. I knew what I needed to do, I just didn't want to admit it. I thought back to the night before, and tried to remember the handsigns I had made. I practiced them again and again, until I was sure I was performing them the exact same way I had the night before. I took a deep breath, slowly let it out, and succumbed to the absurdity of the situation.

" **[Mage Hand]."** I spoke the words I had spoken last night, making the same hand signs I had practiced. I was studiously choosing to ignore what the words I was saying translated to.

In the end it didn't even matter. It hadn't worked! I stormed away from the table in disgust. My power was stubbornly refusing to heed my command. I fumed as I stormed around the house. I decided to distract myself from my abject failure by cleaning. I knew I could do it, I had done it before. It hadn't been a fluke.

The words of my tormentors whispered in my ear, threatening to overcome me. I was useless. I was a failure. Nobody liked me. I should just give up.

I refused to give in to those words, tempting as it was. It had been beaten into me for so long that I had to consciously remind myself it wasn't true. All of this resulted in my furiously cleaning, scrubbing away the mess and dirt as though it were the cause of my problems. I hadn't realized it, but I'd started slamming cabinets, and scrubbing the dishes into submission. I washed so hard that by the time I was done, the floor was slick with soapy water that hadn't stayed in the sink. I didn't realize I'd made a mess of course, so when I went to go find something else to clean, I slipped.

Angry and sore, I was fed up. Without even thinking about it I snarled out **"[Prestidigitation]."** And just like that, the mess was gone. I looked around in surprise. I hadn't really expected that to work. I hadn't expected it at all. I had just done it on instinct.

Then it hit me. I could hear the rushing and crashing in my head, and I hadn't noticed it was there. It had overcome me, and I was too emotional to realize it. I started thinking about what I had just done. If my power needed me to not think about it to be used, it was going to be pretty useless. So I analyzed. I hadn't been visualizing. There wasn't some big trick or secret to it, not so far as I could tell. It just _worked._

In thinking about it, I realized it felt different from last night. I worked through the process again, feeling out the syllables and shapes with my hands, and immediately it felt wrong. There was a difference between when I was focusing on the power and when it had actually worked. It couldn't be as simple as wanting it - I had wanted it bad enough before.

I came to the realization that the only difference was the rushing sound. Both times I had successfully used my powers, it was directly related to the energy I was apparently tuned into. I reached out with my mind to touch on it, and tried to pull it, push it, to _feel it_. I was desperate.

 _And suddenly I was in it, I was aware of it, and I knew it. I could feel the way the energy suffused everything, like a living breathing thing. It was beyond me. It was around me. It was me. It was everything and nothing, the structure of the universe and the crumbling of it's foundation. It was-._

I snapped my mind back as it was overloaded _. Holy shit._ I wasn't in a hurry to try that again any time soon. I could feel the sweat dripping down my back. I was physically exhausted from that short mental excursion, like nothing else I had ever experienced. It had, however, helped to give me a breakthrough.

I had felt the power within me. And now that I knew what I was feeling, it made sense. I started the hand signs and the words again, and instead of trying to pull the power from the world around me, I pulled it from the tiny bit inside my mind. I had a feeling this one power could do more than just clean, and I wanted to test it out. As I pulled the power and shaped it, I felt it snap. It was more intuitive than anything else. So far every time I had used this power had been different, but as I let the energy go, I knew I had done it right.

There was a shower of bright blue sparks that shot out from my hands all around the room. They took a lazy path to the floor, sweeping back and forth before twinkling out as the hit the tiles of the kitchen. I stared in wonder. I needed to do it again.

I was trying to get the exact same effect. Like every time before, it felt different. I had to subtly change the cadence in ways each time. It was a small change, a slight hesitation on a certain syllable, an almost unnoticeable difference in cadence. My finger a millimeter in a different direction from where it was before. I needed to be precise each time, but it was as natural as breathing to shape the power into my hands and my voice.

" **[Prestidigitation]."** The exact same blue sparks burst into existence, before shortly twinkling into nothing. I jumped up from the ground where I was sitting in excitement. I had a renewed vigor, and a place to start from

I practiced until lunch with that first power. It was weak, honestly, but it was oh so varied. Each use of this power needed the energy to be shaped differently into the same hand signs and words too, which gave me a better grasp on how the energy flowed. With that knowledge, I was eventually able to get the spectral hand to reappear, and could make it do so reliably.

I really hoped that by practicing with these two spells, I'd be more prepared for whatever Myrddin wanted me to show him on Saturday. I knew I could do more. It felt like there was a giant empty space in my head. The two powers were stuck there. I felt like a computer, and the fact that I knew these two powers were taking up a certain amount of my memory, and I couldn't delete the files. Not that I wanted to, but there were so many other possibilities! As I flung my mind out, I could feel all the possible ways the energy could be manipulated. It was as if each crash of a wave breaking on my mind was another example of a way to push my will upon the world around me. I could feel every option, begging to be chosen, to be set loose upon the world.

Exploring my options was a weird mix between browsing a library, swimming in a pool, and letting a wave crash over you at the beach. I had to be careful not to get drawn into the ocean again, like I had on accident before. And it was difficult to move from power to power, treading through my mind like it was water. But most dangerous of all was examining the powers. I knew, for certain, that if I could pull out a power, but if I tried to do more than look at it's cover, if I tried to read it and get more information? I'd be stuck with it.

I sighed, and stopped fiddling. The temptation to choose and use more powers was too great. Especially, once I had moved past the simple ones. There were more complex shapings I could do, more power intensive. I figured I could only cast two of them in a day before I had to recharge. They were also much more powerful, and more useful. I figured the people at the PRT could help me figure out which were most useful for being a hero.

Thinking about the meeting tomorrow made me think back to my conversation with Myrddin from yesterday. Hopefully I'd be able to convince Myrddin that I wasn't actually a witch or a wizard, and that I was actually the grab baggiest of all grab bag capes alive. I was purposefully ignoring the fact that I had to make hand symbols and use words to activate my powers. Lots of people had weird stipulations to on their power! I was also very diligently not paying attention to exactly what the words I was saying in the weird language meant.

Practicing (definitely not playing) with my powers kept me from exploring all the other options I had at my disposal. It also helped alleviate the fear I could feel bubbling up inside me about the whole situation that was my meeting at the PRT. But most importantly? Using my power was _fun._

Which is exactly why Dad found me sitting at the kitchen table when he got home. I was snuffing out a candle, and then relighting it, without ever touching it or having any matches. And every time the candle snuffed out, there was a _whoosh_ of wind right after, rather ominously scattering some papers, or a faint fruity odor instead of the smoky smell you'd normally expect. What's more, every time the flame came back to life, it was with a brilliant shower of rainbow colored sparks or a few faint musical notes.

"That's pretty cool, kiddo. You're like a regular Houdini." he teased. I rolled my eyes, and went to get ready making dinner. I was somewhat embarrassed that I'd forgot to get it ready in advance. I had lost track of time. _Whoops._

"Not a witch dad. Or a wizard. Or magic at all, of any kind." I deadpanned. "So, anything special you want for dinner? I promise, it'll be the best tasting dinner we've had in a while." I grinned a wide, mischievous grin.

* * *

The next day found our father-daughter duo driving across town to the PRT Headquarters. I had been to the The Rig, or the Protectorate Headquarters as it was officially known, once before for a school field trip. On said field trip, my classmates and I hadn't really gotten to see much. There was a lot of conference rooms, and a lot of people with guns and body armor. There was about five minutes of walking by where the Wards lived and worked, and where the Protectorate monitored their patrols. The best part of the whole trip, in all honesty, was the gift shop. I wondered idly if the PRT Headquarters had a gift shop too, or if it was a bit more like a regular office building.

Regardless, I wasn't going to the gift shop today. Well, I might stop by just to see if there's anything worthwhile, but it wasn't the main event like it was before. Today, the main event would be me. This revelation hit me roughly around the time I was walking through the doors, and up to the front desk. It was a heady feeling. More than a little nerve wracking as well. It only compounded the undercurrent of trepidation I'd been feeling since yesterday.

The woman sitting behind the desk had a kind, slightly bored smile plastered on her face. As I walked up, my revelation still crushing my world view, the receptionist noticed me.

"Good afternoon! Do you have an appointment today?" she chirped.

"Uhm," was my brilliant response. A few seconds of staring later, I regained my footing. "Yeah. Sorry, big day, still wrapping my head around being here. I was told to come here I'm to pick up my stuff from a cape fight last week?"

"Of course, dear. Can you tell me what day the fight was, or who some of the capes were that you saw?"

"Yeah, a cape named Gwydion was there." I crossed her fingers behind my back. This was it. The moment of truth. In the back of my mind, I think I was always expecting the person I had talked to online had really been playing a prank, and I was about to be laughed at for naming a hero that didn't exist. It was just so surreal to consider that Myrddin had messaged me on PHO.

The receptionist looked at me oddly for a moment, then turned to her computer and started clicking away. I had to sweat it out for a full minute, until eventually she looked up with a less bored, and more sincere smile "Sorry about that! The people upstairs always schedule stuff, and do they ever think to tell me about it? I'm always the last to know. You're going to head back to conference room 2-D. It's on the second floor, the elevators are around the corner. You can head on up and grab your stuff, and if you're missing anything or need any help, we'll send your Dad on up to you." I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding as I thanked her and went back over to my Dad.

As I gave him a quick hug and a squeeze before I walked to the elevators I tried to puzzle out why he couldn't come with me to begin with. It wasn't until I walked into the conference room, and saw a small black domino mask on the table that I realized what was going on. I hadn't ever said that I wanted to join the Wards. So if I was really a cape, they were protecting my secret identity.

Suddenly the whole charade with 'picking up my belongings from a cape fight' made a lot more sense. That way I didn't have to say my name out loud. I smiled, thankful that they had thought of everything. None of this had ever crossed my mind; I definitely had a lot to learn.

I spent a good five minute or so waiting, just sitting in one of the many oversized leather chairs that surrounded the long table in the middle. Without much artwork to look at or anything to do, I started mentally running through all the abilities I had access to. The limited number I had room for in my 'mental hard drive' was somewhat upsetting, considering just how many were available. Water, fire, lightning, earth, wind, there were ways to affect all of them! I could find something to send a message, or to fix things that have been broken. I could-. Oh. Oh wow. Being careful to not accidentally cast it or cement it in my mind, I examined this new power I hadn't noticed yesterday.

I had a power that could make someone like me. That was tempting. Really, really tempting. But that's definitely a dangerous Master power. I wouldn't know how long it would last without choosing it and casting it, but that would put me firmly in the 'dangerous, do not engage' category, I was pretty sure. Best just to leave that one alone.

Eventually I just sat back and relaxed, and listened to the ebb and flow of the energy around me. It still sounded like waves crashing on each other in the middle of the ocean, or maybe like a waterfall. I was startled out of my reverie when I heard a light 'click' and looked towards the door. I nearly had heart attack.

Myrddin. Miss Militia. Standing together. In a room with me. I stood up, and walked over. I knew I should say something. I wanted to say something. But no words came out. These people were important. I was just some high school girl who got bullied. What the hell was I doing here?!

"Hi." I wondered which of them had spoken, as the voice sounded rather meek. Definitely not what I expected Miss Militia to sound like. To my astonishment, I realized a few moments later that neither of them had spoken; I had been the one to say hello. _Well,_ I thought, _now what?_

"Hello!" Myrddin began. I noticed he was eyeing me rather critically. He was looking me up and down, taking stock of everything about me. I had tied my hair up along with putting on the mask. Hopefully, I didn't look too silly. I had to remind myself that he had invited me here. I was, however, heavily regretting the decision to wear my normal overly large hoody and baggy jeans. His expression didn't change, just stayed critical. I'm not sure if that made me more nervous, or less. "Just to confirm, if I said my name was MisterM, would that mean anything to you?"

"Uh, I would tell you that my name is CuriousCurls, and that I'm still having trouble believing you're telling the truth?" I replied, as honestly as possible. I think the fear was over riding my sense of propriety, because that sounded a little too much like sass for my liking.

" **vur sjek si renthisja ekess wux hefoc nomeno?"** He asked, in a language that I hadn't ever heard come out of any lips except my own. Holy crap, I'm not crazy. I'm. Not. Crazy.

He was asking if I understood the language he was speaking. Which I did, except…

" **si ornla visp wux batobot wux tir ti renthisj zi algbo."** I told him how bad his pronunciation was. Because honestly, it was _atrocious_. At which point I realized I had just said that to a Protectorate hero. Not only a Protectorate hero, but the head of the Chicago Protectorate. I had looked him up on Friday, and he was impressive. I, to no one's surprise, was not impressive. And I had just _insulted his pronunciation_. Yep. Definitely the fear talking.

His eyes narrowed, and took on a fiercer intensity, which I honestly wouldn't have said was possible. He didn't look mad or upset, more like some mixture of intrigued and interested. Funnily enough, Miss Militia, who I hadn't been paying much attention to until right now due to the power of Myrddin's gaze, had her mouth slightly ajar, eyes boring into me.

"To be honest," she began, somewhat cautiously "I thought you were playing a prank on Myrddin here, and was ready to read you the riot act." I gulped. Audibly. "I'm assuming that you understood what she said in response?" Miss Militia turned to him, eyebrow cocked. When he nodded, eyes never leaving my face, Miss Militia turned back to me. "Good. So at the very least, if you don't have powers, this will still be worth his time. And you now know for sure you aren't crazy."

Her face was mostly covered by her signature patriotic bandana so I didn't know for sure, but I'm pretty sure she smiled at me. At the very least, I saw a green flash as the rather large hand gun at her side morphed into a small combat knife. I couldn't really put my finger on what exactly it was, maybe her weapon or her smiling eyes, maybe something else. There was just something about her that was letting me know everything would be okay. I relaxed slightly, and then a thought hit me. A grin slowly grew wide across my face.

"Powers?" I said, softly. I really hoped my face wasn't as bright red as I thought it was. "Like this?" With that, I mumbled the words that were always sitting on the tip of my tongue, and made the signs my fingers craved to create. **"[Mage Hand]."**

Miss Militia frowned, and Myrddin watched in fascination, as a moment later the spectral hand appeared, just as beautiful as before. I made it go through the motions to shake Myrddin's hand.

"Sorry, we weren't properly introduced. I don't have a cape name yet, but it's really great to meet you both. Also, it's a relief to know I'm not crazy." This is most likely the most bizarre thing that's ever happened to me. I could feel it when Myrddin shook my hand. As he let go, it seemed to bring him out of his stupor, his face for the first time taking on an expression that didn't scream 'I need to solve this puzzle.'

I saw him reach into his brown robe with the hand I just shook, while his other hand held his staff tightly. It looked like simple wood, but something about it sung to me. I was heavily ignoring what that might mean for his theories. I was surprised by the fact that this actually seemed to be just a normal plain robe - I had expected it to actually be some kind of tinkertech. Well it still could be, but it looked like just a normal robe.

He pulled out a notebook with a worn leather cover, and a small stack of papers sticking out of it, stuffed in the front cover. The extra papers were heavily crinkled and slightly worn. It didn't look like a particularly old book, just one that was used often. If I didn't know better, I would say it was a journal or a diary that he had picked up from a local bookstore when he was a kid, and had been using ever since.

Myrddin approached me, eyes burning with excitement as he held out the book. "I have something," he started, "that I would love for you to take a look at.

* * *

Author's Note: Okay, so this chapter is considerably longer than any of the others. Like a little more than twice the length. Don't know if that'll be a new normal, or if I was just overcome with inspiration when editing this chapter. I suppose we shall see.

For anyone who is interested, I'm using this website for my Draconic to English/Common translations. Also, when the name of a spell is bold and in brackets, Taylor is saying the incantation for it in Draconic. The incantations are the name of the spell.

Still looking for beta readers if anybody is interested and has the time. Feel free to shoot me a message if you're willing!

Last but not least, I wanted to get you opinion on how to proceed. How crunchy do we want this story to be? Should I give basic stats to every character, and roll for everything? Should I only roll damage if it has to do with Taylor taking or receiving damage, or with her ability to save against certain affects and her spell saves? Or should we only roll for saves against spells? I'm on the fence at the moment, and giving the people what they want sounds like a good idea.


	4. Character Creation 1-4

Myrddin and Miss Militia both sat across from me in their own comfortable office chairs. Laid on the table in front of me was a leather tome, with odd bits of paper sticking out of it. It was worn, and well used, with a broken in spine. I refused to believe that it was Myrddin's diary, but so far that seemed like the most likely explanation. Try as I might, though, I couldn't envision a scenario where reading Myrddin's diary would be a good thing.

The two heroes were a picture of contrast. Myrddin was staring at me with a deep and intense wariness, like he was waiting for me to shout "PUNK'D" and for this to all be a joke. But at the same time, he looked like a kid on Christmas morning. His face warred between cautious and excited, and if I weren't so completely out of my depth, I'd find it hysterical. He sat straight, with an air of confidence, like he was used to standing in a room and being the strongest person in it. Honestly, he did kind of act like a wizard would act, and he definitely had the look down. Plan brown robes, with a menacing staff, and a confident demeanor. If I wasn't so sure it was nonsense, I'd almost be willing to believe him.

Miss Militia, on the other hand, looked like a concerned mother. One who had seen their child get hurt before, and wanted to make sure no one was making fun of him or teasing him at school. She was looking at me with the barest hint of acceptance, but her eyes seemed to say 'Don't you hurt his feelings, or you'll be sorry.'

"Now don't get your hopes up, Myrddin. Just because she can speak it, doesn't mean can read it. In all likelihood it's probably just a fluke of her power." Miss Militia cautioned.

I was glad she was there. I had a feeling that without her, Myrddin's presence would have overpowered me and I might have been too intimidated too talk. As it was, her presence was something of a mediator for the two of us.

"Well, I can't promise anything. But you invited me out here, and are willing to help me test my powers. So it's the least I can do, right?" I tried for a smile, and it paled in comparison to the look Myrddin gave me. Apparently my willingness to try was enough to get him past his wariness, and bring him fully into 'hopeful' territory.

Tentatively, I flipped open the book, and my breath caught in my throat. This book was written entirely in the language in my head. And it was written in a way I had yet to see outside my head, too. It was beautiful. It was written in prose, but the way it flowed was almost poetic. I wished, dearly and briefly, that my mom could be here to see this. I might be the only person alive who could read and appreciate this book for all it was, other than Myrddin.

I quickly skimmed the foreword, which talked about the author. Someone named Apuleius Madaurensis. That name was a pain to translate, and I actually took a few seconds to figure it out. After reading the foreword I looked up at Myrddin. I suddenly had a very bad feeling about why he wanted me to read this book. If the foreword was to be believed, it was a book describing the base nature of magic and 'the gods.'

"Where did you get this book? And why are you showing it to me?" I asked, tongue thick with apprehension.

"It was uncovered in an archaeological dig a few years past, almost a decade ago now. In Tripoli, if that means anything to you. What you're holding now is an exact transcription of the original work that I made myself. We believe it to be a grimoire of some sort, but can't tell for certain." He started slowly, but was picking up pace the more he spoke. Like a snowball thrown down a mountain, I could see the impending avalanche coming to overtake me. There wasn't a single thing I could do to stop it.

"The language and grammar is far above and beyond what we've been able to piece together and decipher from some of the similar texts at the site. I was hoping that, if you're telling the truth in saying you have an instinctive grasp of the language, maybe you could read it and understand it. We had found some lesser works, with more simplistic writing, that helped us with the basics. But this, and a few others, are beyond us."

His voice was tinged with longing, as though the fact that this book was beyond his grasp had been a thorn in his side for a long time. He lightly stroked his staff, leaned against the table. As he did, I looked at it again. Before, when I had first noticed it, I had thought there was something special about it. It looked like just a plain wooden staff, but I had this gnawing suspicion that it was incredibly powerful. I wanted to examine it further, to see if my intuition was right. I had a feeling that whatever that staff was or wasn't, it was tapped into the same energy I was. That worried me just as much as this book did.

But Myrddin looked so eager for me to keep reading, and to hear what I had to say. I couldn't honestly remember the last time someone had looked so excited about anything. Even more, I couldn't remember the last time someone had looked excited because of me.

 _They've given me the rope but it looks like I'll be hanging myself,_ I sighed internally.

"Yeah, I can read it. I was wondering why you were speaking in a literal translation. I did it online, because I didn't want to seem crazy, and I figured if anybody knew the language, I'd be pressing my luck to hope they knew the grammar too. I'm sorry to tell you, but it's not a grimoire, or any other kind of spell book."

If I hadn't already been planning on telling him the truth, the look on his face when I said that would have made me reconsider. And if I spoke a little faster due to the horrifying look settling itself on Miss Militia's face, a look filled with scorn, anger, and betrayal then no one would blame me.

"It's a treatise on the nature of magic." I was sure Myrddin has at least minor whiplash after that. He almost looked like a puppy, with eyes begging for more treats. Or a shark, hungry for more information like it was a delicious meal. I couldn't decide which was the more apt description.

To my eternal relief, Miss Militia seemed to have calmed down, and looked curious as I continued.

"The grammar of the language is pretty complicated, and the way this person writes is pretty fantastic. Like, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times" levels of poetic. I doubt it will translate to English intact, which is a shame. The foreword is written by someone named Pudentilla, who's apparently the wife of the author. The author is some guy named, Apuleius Madaurensis. Does that name ring any bells?"

Myrddin's face went on a very exciting journey. Starting at relief, he travelled all the way to understanding, then took a pit stop at awe. Then a minor moment of confusion, followed closely by recognition, all of which was then utterly shattered by a look of defeat. I honestly didn't know a person's face could emote that many expressions that quickly. I was so impressed, I almost thought his real power was a weird Thinker power that let him be overly expressive.

"So, this is just a translation of _'Apologia (A Discourse on Magic)?'_ "

"Hm? Oh no," I continued, realizing I had given him the wrong impression. I was actually rather impressed that he knew who the heck this Apuleius guy was off hand, and a book he had written. "Pudentilla was his wife, I think, and she claims that he wrote this in response to that. Apparently, _'Apologia'_ was more of a legal defense? Someone claimed he used fairies or something to seduce Pudentilla, and ' _Apologia'_ was his response. According to her, he got a lot of hate mail for calling it a 'discourse on magic' when he didn't really explain magic at all, or all that well. So, in response, he wrote this."

I shrugged. This seemed to be a bit normal for an all-powerful wizard. Not that I was admitting magic was real, but if it was, then I wouldn't expect wizards to get pulled in to court for something so benign. If you could control the very fabric of reality, why in the world would you use it to trick some random woman into being your wife, but not to solve world hunger, or end slavery, or something like that? Didn't make a whole lot of sense to me.

"If you want," I continued, with more than a little trepidation "I'd be happy to take this book and read through it. Maybe translate it for you? Some of the translations might be a bit weird, but I could probably do it."

"Would you? I don't want to impose but..." I could see that Myrddin was doing his level best to not be pushy. I appreciated that, I really did. I wasn't sure about the whole magic thing. I really just wanted to be a cape. At the same time though, something was niggling at the back of my mind. I really wanted to do this, but not just for Myrddin. There was someone else I felt I had to do this for. I hung my head before I spoke next, looking pointedly at the book and not at the two Protectorate Heroes.

"My mom was an English professor at BBU." I murmured quietly. I definitely didn't mumble. "She would be proud to know I was helping translate a book, even if it was just a historical document."

I didn't look up at the two heroes after I said that, and they didn't say anything for a few minutes. They just let me hang my head and wipe away the dust that was making my eyes water before moving on.

"It would mean the world to me to have a translated copy of that book." Myrddin's voice was gentle when he continued. "If you could do that, we might be able to get a better grasp on the grammar, and hopefully won't need you to help us decipher the few other resources we have. But only if you're willing to help."

I nodded, glad he was willing to give me that extra breathing room. "If you're up to it, why don't you take a look at those loose papers? They might mean more to you than they do to me." He sounded bitter. I ignored this, and picked up the pages

It took me a few solid minutes of study to figure out what they were, but when they did, I felt my stomach drop out from underneath me. These were, undoubtedly, spells. Well that's not entirely true, rituals might have been a better word. But definitely someone's idea of magic.

"If you don't mind my asking," I began, clearing my throat again, "where did you find these? Tripoli again?"

"A wide variety of places, actually. Grecian or Roman ruins. A few Aztec remains. Egyptian tombs. A lot are actually Celtic in nature." Myrddin explained. As he said it, I could see it. I could see the differences in the spell work, the formulas, and the basics of each. But at the root? I understood it all. It wasn't how I used my power, not at all. But I had a feeling that if someone learned to listen to the ebb and flow around us, if someone else could learn to tap into the energy I seemed to be now naturally connected to, or something similar, I would be willing to bet these instructions would work for them. If not every time, then at least once or twice. I knew it in the same way that if I reached into the energy around me, and picked a power, the necessary words and symbols would flow into my head.

What's even worse, is that all of these rituals looked like you didn't even need that much. Candles, drawings, geometric shapes, a willingness to learn the proper meditation techniques, a good helping of belief, some chanting, and voila. Magic.

I took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and slowly let it out. This couldn't be happening. I wasn't honestly willing to admit that Myrddin might be right, not even just a little. Was I? The fact that I even needed to ask myself that question scared me. The idea that I wasn't a cape was frightening.

 _I'm not actually a parahuman._ My traitorous brain made me think. I told it to shut up.

Deep breath. In. Out. In. Out. Calm.

Even if I were to hop on this crazy train, I still have powers. And Myrddin was a pretty strong hero. So if he was right about all this nonsense, and even if I'm not a parahuman, I could still be a superhero. That thought managed to calm me down enough to continue explaining. It was my lifeboat in a sea of destroyed hopes and dreams.

"These papers, if I'm reading them correctly, are rituals. Spells. This one, if it does what it says it will do, is used to Detect Magic. A couple of these are rituals for contacting spirits, and binding them into servitude. Just so you know? Very ambiguous on whether the spirits are demons or not. Just...fair warning." He gives me a rather amused look. Something akin to a father humoring his child's warnings about dangerous it is to cross the street without holding hands.

"These aren't like my powers, not even a little bit." I continue "Each of these claim to take a long time to cast, and a decent amount of prep work. If I had my guess? At least ten minutes per ritual, if not longer. And it would take a lot of preparation to get into it, I'm pretty sure. There's a few more in here as well. So far as I can tell, all of these, except for one, are instructions on how to properly cast a spell."

The triumph in Myrddin's eyes was second only to Miss Militia's shock. I'd be willing to bet my resigned look trumped both of them for expressiveness.

"This does not mean I agree that I'm a wizard, or a witch, or that I'm doing magic." I stated, much more firmly than I felt. "Because I'm doing it differently than the way the instructions describe. By a large margin. I am, however, willing to admit that there is more here than I can understand. At the very least, someone a long time ago really truly believed in magic, and I certainly can't prove them wrong." I took a deep breath, and trudged on. In for a penny in for a pound, right?

"I am also aware that I owe you an apology, Myrddin. You've done a lot for me, and I didn't exactly treat you very well before I knew who you were. Especially considering the fact that you probably know what you're talking about. At the very least, if magic is real, it's possible you may have reinvented whatever spells were lost to history on your own. I can't imagine that was easy. If you want, I can try and work this out into English along with the book, as a way to say sorry?" I left it open ended, as a question for him.

I inclined my head in apology, waiting for his response. Internally, I was freaking out. That was likely the most eloquent thing I'd ever said. Where the hell had that come from?! Miss Militia still looked shocked, and her head seemed to be on a slight swivel between Myrddin and I, as though Myrddin and I were playing a rousing match of tennis. She couldn't quite figure out which of us she should look at.

To be honest, I wasn't sure either. I had come in here ready to prove that I was a parahuman, and that Myrddin might be a wizard but I most certainly was not. Now, I was apologizing and offering to translate spells. When had my life become so bizarre?

Myrddin's triumphant smile turned sly, almost ravenous. He reminded me of a fox. "I wouldn't have said you owed me anything. You aren't the first to call me crazy. But that is an offer that is too good to pass up. I look forward to seeing the completed translations." He paused for a moment, then cocked his head "If you don't mind my asking, what is the one extra paper that you said wasn't a spell?"

"Oh. That, so far as I can tell, is a recipe for what might be the worst alcoholic drink ever. Talks about 'reinvigorating the spirit', and 'restoring vitality'. I mean, sure magic alcohol is probably great, but the rest of the stuff you've got to put in there with it to ferment?" I shiver, heavily. "You don't want to know. Trust me."

There was a long, pregnant, and very awkward pause. None of us really knew what to say. This day had been, in truth, filled with somewhat mind shattering news. Also, I'm sure they were trying to figure out what was in that drink. I knew they wouldn't figure it out. Because _ick._

 _Well nothing to do but march on,_ I sighed, then tried for a smile. "So, someone said something about power testing?"


	5. Character Creation 1-5

**1.5**

I stared at the piece of paper sitting in front of me. When I had been told I would be doing power testing, I had envisioned a big white room, doctors with lots of lab coats, and machines buzzing and whirring as I picked stuff up with my purple, spectral third hand, or as I made sparks and puffs of wind, and made everybody smell like chocolate. I imagined said doctors listening as I gave descriptions of all the things I thought I could do, and helping me pick the most effective ones so I could be the best cape I could be.

In my darkest fears, which I wasn't willing to admit to anyone else, I was afraid that I'd get hooked up to a machine, and be poked and prodded. That they'd do brain surgery to see how I worked. I feared 'power testing' was a euphemism for 'invasive surgery and dissection to figure out parahuman physiology better.'

What I did not expect was that the test would be worse than anything I had every managed to imagine. I hadn't expected it to be _an actual freaking test._ It even had an essay and short answer section after a whole bunch of multiple choice and True/False questions! This whole scenario was entirely ridiculous. I looked around at my 'testing room,' also known as the interrogation chamber they were pretending wasn't an interrogation chamber. They even had the mirror blocked off so it was still a mirror, and I couldn't see who was in the room watching me. Pretending it was a bunch of doctors in lab coats all writing notes to each other helped me pretend it was more like what I had imagined it'd be like. It also freaked me out even more.

I handled this stress by ignoring it, bottling it up, and just getting started on the test.

 _Question 1_

 _I find it difficult to not use my powers:_

 _True/False_

 _Question 17_

 _You are walking a jewelry store when you see men with large duffel bags exit out of the store. They are running at high speed, and heading towards a car. Do you:_

 _A.) Apprehend them immediately._

 _B.) Take the time to change into your costume, then begin pursuit._

 _C.) Record the license plate and call the cops._

 _D.) Do nothing and continue your day._

 _Question 24_

 _When using my power, I feel:_

 _A.) Positive Emotions (happy, excited, fulfilled)_

 _B.) Negative emotions (scared, worried, worthless)_

 _C.) No emotions (you feel the distinct lack of emotions)_

 _D.) My powers have no discernable affect on my emotions._

Eventually I got to the essay question. It asked me to describe, in detail, the feeling of using my power. It isn't something I'd ever had to verbalize before. I leaned back in my chair, and tried to feel for my power. Now that I knew there was a distinct difference between the power suffusing myself and the energy all around me, it was easier to feel. I knew that I was drawing on the energy I had mixed in with myself, but for both of the powers I could use right now, it was negligible. I don't think I could physically use it enough to outweigh the rate my body would draw in new energy. Drawing in energy felt right. As I tried to compare it to the feeling of rushing or waves crashing all around me, I eventually settled upon an analogy that was adequate.

 _It's as though my body is a cup, or a pitcher, or a bucket of some kind._ I wrote. _And I'm standing at the edge of a waterfall of energy. I get filled up from the waterfall, and can tip out some of the water to as energy to power my powers._

I continued the essay to explain the rest. The details of how it felt to shape the energy, the importance of the hand symbols or the spoken components. But I was honestly pretty pleased with myself with that explanation and the test as a whole. As nerve wracking as it was, I felt like I passed. I was actually a pretty good test taker - I had to be. With the Trio sabotaging all my in class assignments and homework assignments, tests were the only reason I was passing; it was harder for them to sabotage tests.

I wiped that thought away before it took me down a depressive train of thought. _Not today_ , I told myself. Today was all about me, my powers, and my potential new life as a hero.

After the written portion of the exam, I was excited to let loose. I had been itching to try out some of the newer powers ever since I knew I about them. Instead, I was taken to a small, unadorned room with a long exam table. Great. Medical tests. I kicked myself for not being more specific about exactly what kind of tests I was looking forward to participating in. I had a brief flash of fear as I was worried about my medical information being _'on record.'_ At which point I realized I sounded like a conspiracy theorist. The PRT and Protectorate worked for the government. They were the good guys. If I couldn't trust them, I couldn't really trust anybody.

Eventually, with the written test was handed in, and the white coats finished poking, prodding, and scanning me, I did get to go to the portion of the power testing that I had expected from the beginning. I ended up in a giant underground gym. There was a running track surrounding what looked like souped up normal gym equipment. Some large open space, and a few extra padded rooms that had Tinkertech installed to help analyze powers better. I ended up running through the uses of my two powers pretty quickly. The doctor or scientist I was talking to seemed pretty impressed by the fact that I had room for more. I was glad I did - the two I had would be pretty useless in a fight. I didn't mind too much, though; determining the limits of my two powers was _fun_.

I settled back into myself, to take another close look at the powers I had available in my 'power library.' There were a lot to do with fire - apparently my power was a pyromaniac. Creating fire, controlling fire, hurling fire. I ended up deciding to choose the hurling fire ability. Partially because my power seemed to really like fire, and also because pyrokinetics get a lot of respect. I wouldn't be a pyrokinetic, not exactly, but I'd be able to fake it with this ability. And wow did it pack a punch.

It turned out that it wasn't real flame, not in the regular sense. The best anyone could figure out, it burned some sort of special fuel or chemical. Myrddin kept grinning and calling it "Mage Fire," but I was sticking to exotic fuel. After it travelled a certain length, it would just burn itself out. It was the same exact length every time: 120 feet. We measured. Extensively. It was during these tests that the first problem became apparent: the hand motions I had to make for this power were somewhat intricate. And in close combat, they were almost impossible to use. I didn't want to be defenseless in close quarters, and I had a lot of doubt in my ability to ever best someone in hand to hand combat. With no experience and no strength, I had no defense against an attacker getting all up in my face.

Luckily, my power supplied the answer. I had three close range options: a blast of poison, a giant sonic boom, and something to do with electricity. Poison sounded just a little too deadly for my taste, and sonic booms aren't exactly subtle. Being a walking taser? That sounded like it was right up my alley. And as it turned out, that's roughly the level I was at. I was at roughly the same power as a taser. Apparently, those movies where someone gets tased and is immediately knocked out isn't entirely accurate. It was explained to me that a taser that the Police or PRT use works on a five second interval, and it pulses enough electricity to interrupt the nervous system. The cops then use the short time where the aggressor is subdued to cuff them. At least, that's what the lab coats are telling me. And they look like they know what they're talking about - they have clipboards.

That was when things got interesting. We moved on to my more energy intensive powers. Sticking with the subdual and non-lethal options, we lucked out when we found a sleep inducing power. We then ran out of luck when it wouldn't work. It felt like something was missing, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

We took a break so I could collect myself. The scientists kept asking me if I was sure I hadn't run out of energy, and I kept promising them I hadn't. I could still feel it all, swelling inside me. I was just missing something, and not knowing what it was driving me mad. Eventually I let my mind drift. I had officially chosen this power, and it was etched into my mind. I could feel the way the movements were supposed to shape the power, the cadence and rhythm of the words giving it all form.

As I let my mind wander, it went to safer topics: books I had read. Stories I had enjoyed in the library were some of my favorite things to think about. I had read a book on mythology recently. There had been quite a few things in there about old gods of sleep and dreams. Hypnos was the Grecian god of sleep, and his brother was the god of dreams. One of the books I read had this little appendix at the back comparing Hypnos to the Sandman., of old English tales Which was silly, because other than being about sleep, the two had very little to do with each other. But ever since The Sandman had become a popular icon, like in that song, people had started to retroactively associate Hypnos and other old stories about sleep with sand, because the sand meant sleep.

It suddenly hit me. Doing the hand motions with sand in my hand was possible, I supposed. And it was possible the sand might act like a catalyst, similar to in chemistry. I really didn't want this to be right, but the same intuition I'd been having about most of my powers told me it was probably true. I immediately turned my mind to other things associated with sleep.

"I really hate to say this," I said aloud to the scientists after a few moments of careful thought "But is there any way you guys could get your hands on some really finely ground sand? Or some rose petals? Or, and I can't believe I'm saying this, some crickets?"

When I tried to cast the spell again I immediately felt the drain on my reserves. For the first time since I got my powers, I felt empty, and a little tired. Not physically tired, but mentally. It was the feeling you get after taking a long math test, a challenging one. But it was like taking the whole test in about 5 seconds.

"Damn." I breathed. There had been a solid group of people standing together, willing to be put to sleep. I was firmly not calling them guinea pigs. What happened instead was only two of them fell asleep. Like, just toppled to the ground. None of the other people I had tried to use the power on had even felt so much as a yawn. And it wasn't as though I had chosen those two people specifically: it had been somewhat random. I was hoping it would be all of them, but I was just glad to be using my powers. I felt good. I felt powerful.

I also felt very squishy. That's why we then chose to focus on a defensive power. I had two real options: a long lasting armor that was relatively weak, or a considerably stronger shield, that only lasted a short time. We ended up choosing to use the longer armor. And armor it was. It didn't work at first either, but now when I felt it fizzle when I tried to cast, when I felt that disconnect, I knew what I needed to do. It took a little figuring out, but my intuition for this stuff was apparently pretty good. A small strip of leather in hand, and I was set to go. There was a bright golden flash of a full suit of armor surrounding my body, which slowly faded out of view. Even after it was no longer visible, I could still feel it there, humming to me softly in tune with the ebb and flow around me.

I was officially out of energy. I could still use my four minor powers, which was useful to have confirmation on. I wouldn't ever be truly defenseless. And the scientists did way too many tests on my shield. How it held up to heat, fire, electricity, everything short of a gunshot or actual lethal force, they used on me. The armor didn't seem to get weaker over time, but it was rather odd in what it did or didn't allow to hit me. It was a field of pure force, and it would block a tennis ball, or a tennis ball on fire, but it didn't protect me from more obscure threats, like temperature. No reason could be found for why it was so fickle, but beggars can't be choosers.

I smiled as I walked to my last meeting of the day. It had been a very, very good day for me. I may or may not have left the hall smelling like strawberries and chocolate.


	6. Character Creation 1-6

I sat in a chair across from an overweight, blonde, crazy woman. She had her face pinched into a perpetual scowl. On either side of her sat Miss Militia and Myrddin. Armsmaster stood behind them in his power armor, looking considerably more threatening than he had looked last time I saw his face on the old pair of underwear I had thrown out yesterday. They were all sitting or standing on the opposite side of the table from me.

On my side of the table was my Dad, who was nodding slightly as if he actually agreed with what the insane woman had just said. He had been allowed to join the meeting after I had said that by the end of the day I would be signing up as an official parahuman, and giving them my civilian name. I had another brief flash of worry about being 'on record,' but I ignored it. I knew I was being overly cautious. Once I told them that, they put the meeting on hold while they brought him to our conference room. Apparently, between then and now, I was the only person left in this room who hadn't gone entirely mad. Unless...

"I'm sorry, Ms. Hebert, but what exactly are you doing?" asked Director Emily Piggot, AKA the lunatic who looked like she just ate a lemon.

I looked up at her, "Oh nothing, just pinching myself. It didn't wake me up. Apparently, this is real. Which means I am presently the only person in this room who hasn't gone insane. It's rather a frightening state of affairs." I was wary that what I said wasn't appropriate, and possibly very out of line. I chalked it up to the fact that I was going into hysterics. This whole day was fast becoming incredibly surreal.

Miss Militia shared an amused look with Myrddin. Piggot spared a look for my Dad. Armsmaster stood in the same place. Yeah, I was definitely alone in this room. But Director Piggot had just asked me to join the Wards. And everyone was acting like it wasn't a big deal! It was a big deal, even if I was apparently the only to recognize it.

The Wards was a place for heroes. The original Wards team was made up of people like Miss Militia, Chevalier, and Mouse Protector. I couldn't touch that - I was just some gangly high school girl that Myrddin thought of as a curiosity. I hadn't proved myself. I hadn't worked for it or earned a place on their team. For a few brief moments, I wondered if Myrddin was putting them up to this, to try and have a convenient reason to keep me around, study me, and force me to help him with his research.

I quickly squashed all of those thoughts. I was coming off from my initial shock, and I had the opportunity to take stock of my situation. I realized that that was exactly what this was: an opportunity. They wanted me in the Wards. I couldn't even begin to fathom why, but they did. Which means I had something they wanted. So it was only fair that, in return, I get something I wanted too. Joining the Wards was something I would have loved to do, but I had resigned myself to not being allowed to join until much later. At least not until I'd proven myself, and stopped some crime or helped someone. Taking that into account, I figured I should get something else that I wanted.

My Dad was a pretty good negotiator for the Dockworkers Association. When he talked about work I, occasionally, listened. So now I just had to figure out what I wanted. As soon as I had framed it in that light, the answer was obvious.

"Get me out of Winslow." I said, staring straight at Piggot. She had to know how serious I was about this. We made eye contact, and being entirely honest: she was just as terrifying, if not more so than any of the heroes in that room. But I held my own. I had persevered under the Terrible Trio for a year and a half. I could look Piggot in the eye for the length of a conversation.

I felt, more than saw, my Dad smiling next to me as he put together what I was doing. I wondered if he would jump in. After a few moments, when he didn't say anything, it seemed like he really was going to let me handle it by myself. Piggot eyed me, sizing me up. She pursed her lips. I really hoped she wore lemon flavor lip gloss, or something equally as sour, because that facial expression couldn't be entirely natural. Also, definitely letting the absurdity of the situation get to me. But I had to focus. This was important - it might be my only chance to get out.

"If I said we could get you into Clarendon?" She quirked a single eyebrow. How did she do that? Eyebrows don't work that way.

"Where do I sign?" I replied. It wasn't even a thought.

"Hmmm." She murmured. There was something going on inside her head, something I couldn't see. No way I could puzzle it out. I was still too enamored with the idea that I might finally, _finally_ have a way out.

My Dad had told me, while I was in the hospital, that the school had settled to pay most of my hospital bills instead of going to court. Even with as good a negotiator as my Dad was, he was no lawyer. And for some reason, Alan hadn't returned any of his calls on the matter. Now he knew why, but before he'd been distraught. So my Dad had gone in basically blind, with only a few pointers from the Dockworkers Association's lawyer.

In the end, we hadn't been able to get me bumped up the list to transfer to Arcadia, like I could have at the start of High School. My grades weren't good enough anymore. We couldn't get a payout for emotional trauma. It wasn't in the school budget. We couldn't even get me assigned to a new locker, apparently. They were just going to use industrial strength cleaner on my old one, and have me keep using it whenever I was scheduled to come back to school.

No, the only thing we got was _most_ of my medical bills paid. But now? Now I had an opportunity to get out of that hell hole, and I grabbed on tight to that chance. I clung to it like my life depended on it. No way was I letting go.

"What if," Piggot continued again, cautiously "I told you we were considering branching out our Wards program to other schools, and that we needed you to stay in Winslow?"

Damn. Damn, damn, damn. And I was so close, too! I had one last chance. It really wasn't something I was interested in. Brockton Bay was my home. Also, Dad might be upset. He would be at first for sure, but I knew we'd be able to figure out a way to make it work, one way or another. I looked away from Piggot momentarily, and looked directly at Myrddin.

"What are the schools like in Chicago?" I tried to quirk an eyebrow at him. I'd be willing to bet I failed.

For the first time since I had met him in person earlier today, I saw a look of surprise flash across Myrddin's face. I'd seen him look confused, interested, intrigued, and a whole slew of other things. But this was the first time he had looked honestly shocked. It didn't last long. It was quickly replaced with a look of pure smugness, like he had just won the lottery on purpose.

"Not all the schools are great, obviously. But there's a few that are really quite good; the one we generally send our Wards to just recently upgraded most of their Science, Math, and Computer facilities."

I looked back to the director. "I don't know how common it is, but I'd go to Chicago, or any other city's Wards program before I let you put me back in that hell hole." Something must have come through when I said that, because now she wasn't just curious; she was concerned.

"Is it really that bad at Winslow? Or is it just that bad for you, personally?" Well crap. Now we're asking personal questions. Miss Militia and Myrddin both looked at her uneasily. Even Armsmaster frowned. That was the first I've seen his face move this whole meeting. He hadn't even spoken yet. I had three ways I could handle this: keep my mouth shut, gloss over the whole situation, or go all in. Not speaking would be the same as going all in in terms of admitting how bad it was for me, except they wouldn't have any of the details. And much as I wanted to gloss over it, pretend it had never happened, I couldn't. I knew nothing would change at Winslow. Nothing ever changed at Winslow.

But if recounting my suffering in full was enough to get me out of there? I could bear it. I'd have to. I took a deep breath, and I resolved myself to go all in.

"Whatever you think it's like? It's worse. It's a breeding ground and a recruitment center for all three gangs. I take Math with the Empire, History with the ABB, and Chemistry with the Merchants. There are girls my age that I've known since preschool that have kids at home, and spend lunch getting high. The teachers are mostly incompetent. It would only take one hand to list all the teachers I have any respect for in that cesspool. And..." I faltered for a moment, before powering on. If I wanted to be on the Wards, if I wanted to go to a new school, I needed it to be with no secrets. A brand new beginning. I wouldn't talk about… the locker. But if I told them about Winslow, it wouldn't be hard to find. It was in the papers, even, on page seven. If they did their job, I wouldn't ever have to breathe a word of it.

I continued "And I, personally, have been a victim of the whole goddamned thing since the beginning of my freshman year. It sounds dumb to say it out loud, but three girls have been bullying me nonstop, almost every day since then. Eventually most of the other girls got in on it too. I say bullying, but it's felt like torture.

"So you think Winslow needs a Ward? Yeah, it probably does. God knows they could use the help. But I promise you, it won't be me. I... I can't let myself be a victim anymore. Not if I really want to be a hero. I did everything I was supposed to." The words are falling out of me at this point. It was like when I had the conversation the other night with my Dad. Once I started I couldn't stop. At some point while I was talking, I had turned into a train without breaks, going at breakneck speeds as I barreled through everything around me. I just hoped when I crashed, the destruction I caused wasn't too drastic.

"I told the teachers. I never hit them back, or talked back, or reciprocated it. I just tried to move along and ignore them. That's what we're always told to do when we see bullying. We're told the adults will take care of it. Well, the teachers ignored me. They lost my written complaints, sometimes even walked right by me in the halls as it was happening. All because those girls are popular. Because they're better than me. Well, they're not better than me anymore; I've got powers now. I won't stay there. I can't stay there. I can't."

I took a deep breath as I stopped, and slowly let it out. That's the second long, eloquent speech I'd made in one day. Who was this new Taylor Hebert? Had my powers changed my personality? Or did they just give me the confidence to do something about my situation? I thought back to the girl I used to be, back before I was betrayed by Emma. Back before Mom had passed away. I hadn't ever been as girly as Emma. But, I had been something of a chatterbox, I remembered that much. Maybe this was the person I was always meant to be? Long winded and full of things to say? That sounded as right as anything else.

I wasn't sure how much I liked this new version of myself. And I desperately hoped it wasn't my powers affecting me in some adverse way. Because honestly, almost anything else was better than the person I'd let myself become, but being affected by my powers wasn't a great start to my career as a hero.

I had been looking Director Piggot in the eye during my whole speech, but right after, I had averted my gaze. It was a habit at this point. I could feel Dad's presence next to me. His restrained rage at having to hear the truth again was, oddly enough, reassuring. When I looked back up, I saw an odd sight. My Dad's rage was contrasted by Miss Militia and Myrddin, who both looked moderately horrified. Apparently they hadn't realized how bad Winslow was.

Armsmaster's frown had deepened, and he I could see his lips moving. I was tempted to read his lips; a survival habit I had picked up to avoid traps the girls at school would spring on me. I figured it would be rude to intrude on his privacy, though. Also, I hadn't realized how still he had been before, but now it was imminently noticeable. Before, he hadn't been moving. At all. Creepy.

Easier to just ignore him altogether.

Director Piggot was the one that confused me the most. She looked at me in fascination. I was just starting to get uncomfortable with all the staring when she spoke up.

"I find it odd," she began slowly "that you only asked to be moved to a different school."

I grimaced as I realized what she meant. I had to save face. I should have thought of this. Now that I'd messed up, they probably wouldn't even want me in the Wards. Stupid, opening my mouth like that. Chatterbox I may be, but well-spoken I most definitely am not.

"Yeah, I know it's not terribly heroic. Honestly, I'm asking for purely selfish reasons. I could ask you to fix up Winslow, but I've been there so long that there's a lot of really bad memories ingrained into the halls, you know? And honestly, with some of the stuff those girls and the gangs got away with? I'm not entirely sure even the Triumvirate could fix Winslow. So, yeah. I should probably want to fix it so no one has to go through what I went through, because I know they'll just pick a new target if I'm gone. Like I said, this is an entirely selfish request."

I put on my best sheepish face. It was the one I used to use all those years ago on Mom when she caught me after I'd gone to Dad when I wanted extra dessert, even though she had already said no. I was out of practice, and I hadn't used it at all for years, but if anything was worth it, this was.

If anything, everyone managed to look even more shocked at that. "That is not exactly what I meant." Piggot clarified, looking at me like I was a newly discovered strange specimen of bug and she was the world's best scientist. "Allow me to explain: when most people join the Wards, the don't ask to be taken out of their school. They ask to be put into Arcadia. You very obviously care less about where you end up, so long as it isn't Winslow."

Crap. Now she had an advantage over me. I was making a mess of this whole stupid thing. I should have just kept my mouth shut and let Dad do the talking. This is what he was good at! I kicked myself mentally for my numerous mistakes.

"This lends credence to your story that the school is as bad as you say. Which is...concerning. I wasn't aware the school had become so desperate. What's more, I must say that I'm surprised you don't want those girls punished."

I paused, at that. Did I want Emma, Madison, and Sophia to be punished? I supposed I did. I had fantasized about it often enough. I was already at a huge disadvantage. I figured I could earn my way back into her good graces by being honest.

"Yeah. That would actually be really nice." I think Myrddin's eyebrows had disappeared into his hairline at this point. Maybe he really _was_ a wizard. But he was no less surprised by this conversation than I was. I was making this up as I went along, and I was pretty sure I'd messed most of it up. Instead of dwelling, I steamrolled ahead, not willing to give up yet. I followed through on my thoughts.

"But what would that get me? I mean, like I said: I doubt the Triumvirate could fix that place, given all the stuff those girls have gotten away with. It'd be an exercise in futility. And even if they _did_ get punished, so what? I'm hopefully going to a new school. I've got powers now. I want to leave them behind, and be the better person. I _need_ to leave them behind, to _be_ the better person. 'Living well is the best revenge,' right?" This whole thing was becoming more and more emotionally draining by the minute. I was ready to be done.

"Well," the Director said after I'd spoken my piece "you've certainly given us something to think about. We don't normally consider sending Wards out of their home town, except under extreme circumstances. And with other schools available in the city, I doubt it would meet those requirements. But," she intoned, with a glance at Myrddin. He had looked like he was about to speak up "we will keep it under advisement. Regardless, I foresee no problems removing you from Winslow. Would you like to sign the paperwork today? Or is there a lawyer you'd like to have look over it first? We definitely aren't in a rush."

I expected the Director to make a pinched expression again, but instead she smiled. I wished she'd go back to the lemon expression. That smile was unnerving. Like it wasn't an expression she used often, and she had forgotten what it was supposed to feel like when she did it. It ended up looking just a little off.

My Dad spoke up then. The sound of his voice was a godsend; I chose to interpret it as my cue to stop talking. Preferably for forever.

"If it isn't too much trouble, we'll take it with us. I've got a few more questions to ask, but it's always good to get an outside opinion and all that. I hope you understand." He smiled politely as he spoke, inclining his head. I was incredibly grateful that he was stepping in to talk for me. I was quickly running out of steam. And so far, no train crashes, for which I was immensely grateful.

The adults proceeded to have a very adult conversation. What were the benefits of joining the Wards, what were some of the common complaints? How often would I end up staying overnight instead of going home. Do I get a salary or a stipend, or are there other financial benefits? Dad seemed to really be in his element, talking nitty gritty details, and as bored as the heroes looked, Piggot seemed to be glad to have someone take an active role in the details of being a Ward.

As we were getting ready to leave, and shaking hands, there was still one thing left unsaid. I waffled back and forth on whether I should speak up or not. Hadn't I just made some declaration to myself about becoming a new person, and being better for it? That included speaking up for myself, right? So I went for it.

"One last thing?" I asked. When they all nodded me on, I continued "Why me? Why are you offering me a spot on the Wards? You don't know if I'll be any good yet. I haven't proved myself. I haven't ever done so much as stop a mugging. Heck, I just admitted to being bullied and picked on! What makes you think I'd make a good Ward? I certainly don't know if I'll make a good hero."

It was Miss Militia who spoke first. "Do you know what the purpose of the Wards is, Taylor?"

I took a moment to think about it. I knew they were like a mini Protectorate, for underage parahumans. I knew they were the heroes, and they fought the villains. But I don't think I'd ever read a mission statement or anything like that. So I shook my head to let her know I wasn't sure.

She smiled. "Not many people do. Most people think it's to be a teenage superhero, with all the fame, glamour, and glory that comes with it. It's not. It's a place to grow. To learn. It's called the Wards because we like to think of you as our wards. Our charges to protect, to take care of, and to nurture. The Wards are a place to become the best version of yourself. I was on the Inaugural Wards team. I helped shape it into what it is today. I don't care what you think of yourself now. The Wards isn't a place for the best of the best. The Wards is a place for betterment; for _becoming_ the best of the best. We want you on the Wards because we think you have what it takes to be better than you are now; to become one of the best. We believe that one day, you will make a great hero."

"Don't sell yourself short. Even if you won't admit that it's magic, you've still got some quite a bit of potential with your powers. Now you just have to let us help you learn how to use them." Myrddin chipped in.

"I want you in the Wards." the Director pointed out abruptly. "When the system failed you, you did not retaliate on your own. You buckled down and persevered. I know I don't look it," she said with a smirk. Another new expression! Her facial repertoire was expanding by the minute. It was astounding. "But I used to be a field agent. You acted exactly the way field agents are taught to act. That's a solid foundation to build upon for a hero. We will welcome you to the Wards. I look forward to seeing your signed paperwork on my desk _very_ soon."

Armsmaster was the only one who didn't speak. I didn't even really notice. The whole trip back home, I was floating on clouds. And for once, I'd willingly admit: I was crying. I hadn't felt this good in a long, long time.

* * *

Author's Notes: Hello! I hope you're enjoying the story so far. I've been enjoying writing it. I love reading your comments, they're what gives me the motivation to continue, so thanks for that! I'm reaching out to anyone who might have the free time and is interested in being a Beta reader. I think I've been doing alright so far, but editing this all myself is taking a lot of time, and I know I'm missing things. If you're interested, feel free to shoot me a message, or let me know if the replies.

Once again, I hope you're enjoying the story!


	7. Character Creation 1-7

Waking up the next morning was a relief. I was back at full energy, with the ability to use any of my powers. I tried to gauge if I had any more energy than I did yesterday, but so far as I could tell it seemed to be the same exact amount. Frustrating.

Dad and I sat at the table together, having breakfast together. In truth, it was more like having breakfast near each other. He would occasionally say something, and then I would say something back, and then we'd both fall silent again. It was like all of our other conversations from the last few years, except now we were trying to make an effort. Failing miserably, that was obvious, but definitely trying.

Part of the problem was our lack of conversational topics. I tried to wrack my brain for what normal kids talked to their parents about. School? That was out. Friends? Didn't have any of those. My powers? Not normal, and I had shown him everything I knew last night. As the silences in between our attempts at conversation grew longer, the house seemed to grow more restricting. It was like the walls were bearing down on me. I eventually couldn't take it anymore, and suggested we spend the day together, and go out somewhere.

That's how Dad and I found ourselves strolling along the Market, enjoying the crisp, fresh air. The sun was shining. The snow hadn't melted yet, and it was still pretty cold outside. That didn't mean the Market closed, though. The Market stayed open as often as possible. Unless it was actively snowing, or heavily raining, you'd find at least a few people taking advantage of the stalls and booths set up for people to sell their wares.

The Market was actually called the Lord Street Market. Most locals thought of it as an off brand Boardwalk. Dad and I would probably head to the Boardwalk later. We weren't really shopping for anything in particular, just spending the day together. We hadn't gone out together like this in a long time, and it was...nice to have something to do while we spent time together. All the uncomfortable silences that piled up didn't disappear; they were still just as awkward and just as frequent. They were smoothed over instead, by the opportunity to look at the stalls and idly chat about the baubles and trinkets that the market had to offer.

We stopped browsing for a bit to get some hot chocolate from a vendor. Neither of us had seen anything that caught our eye. I didn't really know how to go shopping for fun, seeing as that's something that you generally do with friends. When I needed something new, Dad or I would just head to a department store and pick up whatever fit. I would vaguely check to make sure that everything I bought wasn't black. I didn't care much about clothes, but I tried to mix it up with a nice dark grey every now and again.

So we wandered. Hot chocolate in hand to keep us warm, Jack Frost (the story character, not the hero based out of Toronto) nipping at our heels to keep us moving, we weaved our way around. Eventually we had to give up on our meandering though. It was just too cold, and nothing there interested us.

I wasn't ready to let the day end yet. I hadn't had quality time with my Dad in so long, I was starting to really enjoy it. I suggested we move to the Boardwalk. Dad looked pretty apprehensive, but I truthfully told him I didn't really plan on buying anything. I was just wasting time until I was scheduled to meet the Wards later in the day. And I wanted to waste it with my Dad. When I told him that, his face lit up like it was Christmas again, and willingly acquiesced.

The Boardwalk was nice because if it ever got to be too cold, we could just jump into a shop real quick for a bit to warm up. We couldn't do it for every shop - some of those stores were so far out of our price range we would have looked out of place just walking in. But there were enough shops we could wander through to stave off the cold.

We did stop to see one of Parian's puppet shows. I had always assumed it was mostly a show for kids, and it was. That didn't mean the show wasn't entertaining; it was actually pretty good. I had a few idle thoughts of just ignoring the Wards. Ignoring the cape scene. I was stuck with my powers as they were, but I could figure something out. My multi-purpose power all on its own was pretty entertaining. Maybe I could team up with Parian for her shows? Most importantly, it would probably make Dad happier too.

But I was already set to join the Wards, which would keep Dad almost as happy. I'd have a full team to support me, government backing, and wouldn't be put directly in any fights too far out of my league. It really was the best compromise he could ask for that let me still be the hero I'd always dreamed of being.

I was a little disappointed about not going solo, or joining an independent team. I definitely wasn't looking forward to the Wards being like high school: filled with teenage drama and inattentive adults. I hoped Miss Militia and Armsmaster wouldn't be like that, and tried to convince myself there would be very little infighting or social power plays, all of which would go over my head. It would be more like a job or an after school club than it would be like high school. The Wards would be my teammates; that meant they had to at least be nice to me. I clung to those thoughts like they were lifeboats, while I drifted in the sea of my own anxiety.

I was also worried about how much control I had to give over to the PRT. They had veto powers and a lot of input on my cape name, my costume, my entire image. They got licensing rights, and a whole slew of other things from me the moment I signed the dotted line. I wanted to feel cheated, or taken advantage of. I also hated the feeling of not being in control. I worried that I'd show up to my PR Meeting later this week and get talked over or ignored by the bigwigs.

I focused again on Parian's show. A giant pink elephant was dancing with a bright yellow tiger. The kids were laughing and clapping, while ballroom music played in the background. Her power was really pretty cool.

I vaguely remembered hearing about Parian going to Brockton Bay University for a degree in Fashion Design. And I knew she had a shop somewhere here in the Boardwalk. It was one of the reasons she put on this show: advertising. Maybe she'd be willing to help me with some initial designs? That way the PR department had to at least consider my ideas. And, I would get to know some of the heroes outside of the Wards program! Expanding my horizons, or some nonsense like that. That was supposed to be good for me, right?

Honestly, I just really didn't want to get pigeonholed into the 'witch' theme. I was willing to admit that it's possible that Myrddin wasn't entirely crazy. Or, rather, that he wasn't the only crazy one. A long time ago, people obviously believed in magic, because I doubt Myrddin would fake a whole book. That didn't mean that my powers were magic though. As grateful to him as I was for his help and support, I really didn't want to be the next Myrddin. He may be powerful, but to a lot of people he was still the butt of a lot of jokes.

Also, I had looked up female names associated with magic. Every single name I had been able to find was villainous, at least a little. Every. Single. One. I was sure there were names out there about _good_ witches, but historically most names and myths made the women with magic powers out to be the bad guy.

The show ended, and I made sure to note exactly where Parian's shop was. I wasn't sure if I would go to her for help, but it was better to have some idea where she worked. Just in case.

Dad and I started out wandering again. I looked up to say something, but stopped when I noticed the pensive look on his face. He looked down at me, and bit his lip.

"Taylor." Oh god, did I do something wrong? We were having such a nice day! "There's a store I want to go to. You don't mind?"

What the heck? Sure we'd mostly been wandering today, but why would I mind if he wanted to go to a particular store? Also, the serious expression on his face was unnerving me. I really wanted to see where he was going with this, though, so I didn't cause a fuss.

"Sure Dad!" I smiled, to try and let him know it was alright. Hopefully it reassured him. "I'm just glad to be spending time with you. Anywhere you want to go is fine."

His serious expression failed to lighten. He started off, not so fast I couldn't follow, but definitely with purpose. I tried to look ahead to see where he was walking to, but I couldn't see anything in particular. Eventually I just gave up, and decided to follow along.

We ended up in front of an electronics store. Was he thinking about getting me a laptop? Or a new computer for the house? Our TV was fine, but the computer was old. That didn't bother me, not really. I could always use the one at the library. As we headed inside, I looked around at the slick metal surfaces, and bright electric displays. What the heck was he looking for?

He apparently found it, and headed off to the back of the store. I stopped as I realized where he was heading. I saw two display cases, each filled with rows and rows of cell phones. My heart stopped.

"Dad." I said. Murmured. Whispered. Something. I just know I said it. He didn't hear me.

"Dad." Louder this time. He looked back at me. His serious expression never wavered. He had gotten a bit ahead of me, and walked back over to me. "What are we doing here?"

"We're buying a phone, Taylor." He replied calmly, as though that wasn't the most ridiculous thing in the world.

"But I don't need a phone. My new," I paused while I thought of the right way to word it. "After school club is getting me one." He was there for that conversation. He should remember. He was the one who had asked about a personal phone, and the chances of being caught using both if they looked different. Apparently, the PRT provided identical non Tinkertech personal phones as well as Tinkertech 'work phones'. Which was convenient, as it meant we wouldn't need to deal with getting me a cell phone. So why was he worrying about it?

Apparently, he got my club reference. He started. "I know that, honey. I do. This phone-"

"Will be too expensive. We don't need it." I interrupted him with an air of finality, indicating the discussion was over. Apparently, Dad didn't pick up on it.

He ran his fingers through his hair, and sighed. "It won't be too expensive. I'm only getting the one phone. And before you interrupt!" He glared at me. I stayed silent. "This phone isn't for you. It's for me."

What.

Dad hated cell phones. He's always hated cell phones. He always will hate cell phones. He hated them so much that he didn't even throw out the one he used to have, from before. He claimed he threw it away. I know for a fact that he did; I saw the smashed up pieces in the garbage can. He would _never_ own a cell phone, that was just a fact of life like how the sky was blue, or the grass was green. Why is he doing this?

I stared at him, eyes wide. I tried to tease out what weird, sick game he was playing at from his facial expression. He looked at me, as though he was desperately trying to make me understand. But it's impossible to understand crazy people. So I gave him the only logical response.

"No."

Dad and I weren't on great terms. I resented him, somewhat, for never helping me with the bullying. I was angry at him, more than a little, for not being there for me when Mom passed away. He had curled in on himself. He had let himself fall further and further into depression. But I knew at least some of that was my fault. I hadn't tried to talk to him, either. I hadn't tried to pull him out of it. I had been just as selfish as him. Family was supposed to be there for each other. Neither of us had been doing a great job of that lately.

But when push came to shove? He had stepped up. He had supported me about my powers, he had gotten furious over my mistreatment once he knew about it. He hadn't done a great job handling Winslow, but he had done his best. And now? We were out, having a nice day together, enjoying shopping. It wasn't perfect, but we were trying.

Why was he trying to ruin it?

I felt heat prick at my cheeks, and turned to wipe the dust out of my eyes. It seemed like everywhere I went lately there was dust making my eyes tear up.

I felt arms wrap around me, and I let them pull me into a hug.

"I'm getting a cell phone. I know you don't like that. I don't like it either. You know what else I don't like?" He was whispering softly to me, so no one else could hear, and it was calming me down. I didn't want to be calm. I wanted to be angry. "I don't like the idea of you going out at all hours of the night doing god knows what, and wondering if you got back safely from patrol. I don't like the idea that I'll hear about you being in danger on the news before I hear about it from you. I don't like thinking about how maybe I won't be home one day when you really need me, and you'll call the house phone. And I won't answer. I don't want that to happen. I don't want the fact that someone in our family can't get a hold of the other one to be a problem ever again."

He turned me around, then, and looked straight at me. "Don't think that joining your after school club is going to get you out of listening to my rules. I told you we'd have a conversation about all of this. I told you we'd have ground rules, and that I would set them. And we will. They will involve you calling me, and updating me. _Frequently._ That means I want to know where you are and what you're doing regardless of where we both are. Which means…" he paused, looking at me. He was going to make me say it. I hated him for making me say it.

I hated him more for making me agree with him about it.

"You need a cell phone." I muttered. I looked down, as he drew me into a hug again. "That doesn't mean I have to like it. Can I wait for you outside?"

"Okay, Taylor. This shouldn't take long." He squeezed my shoulder. "Thanks, little owl."

Using Mom's old pet name for me was a low blow. He knew as well as I did that she'd agree with him on this, not me. I stalked out of the store, and stood outside it. I ignored the cold, and tried desperately to think about anything else.

There was a tiny part of me, a part that I normally wouldn't ever listen to, that blamed myself. My mom had been in a car accident, while trying to call me. That wasn't supposed to happen; I was supposed to call her. She had told me a time to call her, and I didn't If I had just called her when I was supposed to she wouldn't have tried to call me while driving. She wouldn't have lost control of the car. She wouldn't have spun out. If only I'd listened and did as I was told.

Whatever Dad's rules about phones were? I'd follow them to the letter. There was no room for negotiation on that.

I looked around, trying to distract myself from myself destructive train of thought. My eyes fell upon a new age shop - selling things like incense and crystals. They had a giant poster of Myrddin in the front window. Apparently, I was in a mood to cause myself harm, because I was seriously interested in going in and checking it out.

I didn't want to go back inside to see Dad. Partially I didn't want to see him buying a cell phone, but I also didn't want to be the one to give in. It was stubborn, but he was being stubborn about the phone. I staunchly didn't think about how it would be nice if I could just text him where I would be. Instead, I walked inside, and told him, ignoring everything I was seeing. He nodded, and kissed me on top of the head. When he tried to give me money, I just told him to meet me there instead.

I wasn't going to let him buy anything for me. I had money from my birthday and Christmas still saved up; it wasn't like I had friends to spend them with. Also, I wasn't going to buy anything there! It was just a morbid curiosity that got me to even consider it.

Walking inside the store, I was accosted by the smell of heavy incense and too many candles. I almost gagged. There was a short, mousy woman standing by a bookshelf with a baby cradled against her, browsing through the books. I say short, but she was really my height, maybe only a few inches or so shorter. I was just stupidly tall.

I walked over near the books, with a smile on my face. She spared me a smile back, before picking up another book. I picked up a few books, one at a time, each detailing how to become a wiccan, or a pagan, or a wizard. Although Myrddin was on a poster in the front of the shop, none of these books had him on the cover. Each one that claimed to teach magic were more like self-help books. They talked about "spiritual awakenings." At least when Myrddin talked about magic, he didn't use it as a metaphor like these authors did.

I wandered around the rest of the store, idly running my fingers over everything. Mostly just knick-knacks. Incense, incense holders, candles, smelling salts, tarot cards. I saw a display with a bunch of hand carved wooden wands. Did people actually buy this stuff?

Some of them were really well done. Beautiful carvings, polished wood. I let my hands drift over them. I imagined myself going out in costume, wand in hand, shooting blasts of fire or jolts of electricity. Waving my wand across a gang war battlefield, and watching Empire and ABB thugs all fall asleep. I wasn't ever going to give in to the 'magic is real' nonsense, but it would be funny to pretend, and watch people underestimate me.

I jerked my hand back as I felt a shock. One of the wands had suddenly felt full of energy. As though while I had been imagining using it, it had wanted to be used.

"Oh, hell no." I whispered aloud to myself.

"No what?"

I jumped. My Dad was standing right behind me.

"AH! Don't sneak up on me like that." He grinned at me. "And nothing serious. Just remembered something funny from my club meeting yesterday. I'll tell you later." I smiled back at him. "I'm going to keep browsing."

We were both studiously ignoring the bag he held from the electronics store. _We're both making an effort,_ I had to remind myself.

I continued meandering through the small store. My Dad and I would occasionally catch each other's eyes and then I'd keep moving. He was over by the book section. Maybe he was considering a self-help book? I didn't want to think that he was considering what Myrddin had said about my powers being magic. He was having a conversation with the woman by the book shelf.

I saw a section of the store devoted to crystal balls. All different shapes and sizes, some with stands, some small enough to be held. I caught Dad's eye again, and bent over one of the biggest ones they had, sitting in an overly ornate gold stand. I wiggled my eyebrows and fingers over it, while giving him a mysterious glare. I saw him start to laugh, before his eyes got wide. What? That wasn't what I expected. He nodded down at the crystal ball.

It was filled with a swirling purple mist the same color as my spectral third hand. Oh come on! It had been clear a second ago. My power was making it very hard for me to take it seriously.

I brought my hands back, and the mist faded away. Dad laughed at me as I made an overdramatic huffing noise.

Once I gave it some thought, I realized the crystal ball was the same as the wand. It felt like it drew in my power, and absorbed it. As though holding it and channeling the energy through it would make my power easier to use. I didn't want to admit it, but that was tempting. I really wanted something like that - I just didn't want a wand or a crystal ball. It was too much like magic. Which my power most definitely was not.

I was also most definitely ignoring the fact that when I held either the ball or the wand, it felt like a weaker version of the power that thrummed through Myrddin's staff. I would admit to being curious enough to ask Myrddin if I could hold it, if only for a minute or two, to see if it really did feel the same. I might just be remembering things wrong or imagining things. But the immense amount of pure energy I felt emanating off that thing? I really hoped it wasn't rude to ask a wizard to borrow his magical implements.

I decided to leave my chances of finding something to fate. I kept an eye focused on Dad as he went back to chatting amiably with the woman by the self-help books, and let me fingers drag, caress, and brush against everything that came within range.

A long five minutes of wandering through the store later, I felt it. A shock travelled up my fingers, and through my system, swirling the energy inside me and just begging to be used. I looked at where my hand had stalled, and saw a large barrel filled with crystals and rocks, with little velvet bags next to it to fill up. I started wading through the barrel, looking for the one that felt right. A lot of them reacted, probably about one out of every ten crystals, but I wanted one that was perfect. Eventually, with my arms stuck deep in the barrel, up to my elbows, I found it. I grabbed it up greedily, pulling it out to take a look.

Other crystals spilled out and onto the ground, but I didn't care. I looked at my prize as I pulled it out. The crystal wasn't small by any means, at its longest it was the width of my palm. Maybe about the same size around as my pointer finger. A beautiful shade of purple, precisely the same color as my extra hand. It gleamed in almost the exact same way too. As I felt my power course through the crystal, I could see a slow unfurling fog inside, lazily swirling back and forth.

After paying for it, and having it set in in a metal wire on a leather strap, I gazed at my newly acquired treasure before putting it on. It was perfect. And it was _mine._

* * *

A/N: So this is the end of Arc 1! I hope you guys have enjoyed it so far. I've got an interlude planned, and it's going through beta readers now, so hopefully it'll be up soon. On that topic, I need to give a HUGE thanks to the three people who offered to be beta readers for me: Wizerd00, Assembler, and Modigar. All the suggestions I got from them were immensely helpful. Hopefully the story is a bit smoother for it.

As always, I love reading your comments, and thanks so much for reading!


	8. Arc 1 Ending Character Sheet

So, for anybody who's interested, here is Taylor's current stats that I'm using as of the ending of Arc 1. I used a standard array for her stats, 15, 14, 13, 11, 10, 8. Certain Stats got bumped here and there. I tried to make it as true to the character as I could. Feel free to discuss, disagree with, or ask questions in the comments about choices I made!

* * *

 **Taylor Hebert: Wild Magic Sorcerer Level 1**

 **Cape Name: N/A**

 **Stats**

Str 8

Dex 11

Con 14 (+1 Variant Human Trait)

Wis 10

Int 15 (+1 Observant)

Cha 15

 **HP** (1d6+2) 8

 **Background:** Cloistered Scholar

 **Languages:** English, French, Draconic

 **Feats:** Observant

 **Class Features** : Wild Magic Surge, Tides of Chaos

 **Spells**

CANTRIPS

Shocking Grasp

Firebolt

Magehand

Prestidigitation

LVL 1

Sleep

Mage Armor

 **Items/Inventory:** Arcane Focus (Crystal); Book (Detailing the Nature of Magic); Assorted Papers (Ritual or Spell descriptions and Recipe for apparent alcoholic beverage.)


	9. Interlude 1: Danny

**Interlude: Danny**

Danny didn't have great days anymore. He didn't even really have good days, to be entirely honest. Sure, some days were better than others, but most days Danny felt more robotic than anything else. Monotonous. He had little motivation to do the things he used to love.

He used to love fighting for the Dockworkers Association. He took pride in his boys, in the work they did. He marveled at the fact that the jobs he fought hard for kept food on the table, and honest folk out of the gangs. Danny used to love joking with the guys, and being able to come home at the end of the day to a happy house, full of laughter and smiles.

He used to love going on long drives. Danny would go on long drives, just for fun, in any season except winter. He wouldn't go anywhere in particular, he was just happy to have a full car, and scenery to look at. Being in a car for a long time was the best environment for good conversation. Lots of things to look at, to point out and laugh about. Radio quietly filling in the comfortable silences as you took in the kaleidoscope of colors during the fall, or the lush green blooming into view after a long winter. The tall mountains looming overhead if you went far enough inland from the bay.

He used to love quiet weekends at home. The scribbling of crayon on paper, the occasional flipping of a book's page. He could, if he tried hard enough, remember those sounds clearly enough to trick himself into believing they were still there. He used to love lazing the day away on the couch, enjoying a feeling of peace that he just couldn't seem to find anywhere else. The calming atmosphere cooling his ever present temper until almost nothing could set him off.

He used to love a lot of things. Now? Not so much.

But today had been okay. Over the past few years ever since Annette had… Danny had told himself a lot of times that he would fix things. He wasn't a smart man, but it didn't take a smart man to see that his daughter wasn't doing well. He would admit that she was doing at least as bad as he was. He knew it was his job as her parent to do his best to try and make amends, to try and fix everything, but there was just so much to fix. At first, all those years ago, he had told himself he couldn't be a good father on his own. Eventually, he told himself he could be; just maybe not today. Danny would put it off just one more day.

He'd swear to himself that today was the day, but it never was. Today would always end up being tomorrow, would always end up being next week, would always end up being never.

And then Danny had gotten the call. Taylor. She was in the hospital. He felt that all too familiar fear, the one that hadn't ever really left him. It had all come crashing down. Things hadn't been good, but they'd been stable. To Danny's immeasurable shame, he had thought things would last as they were. But it was all coming down around him, suffocating him as he realized what a fool he'd been.

When Danny saw her laying there, alone, unconscious, he could feel Annette's eyes boring into him. He could feel her words, lashing across him like a whip. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Why isn't this fixed yet?"

She had always had faith in him, in his ability to be a husband and a father. Once upon a time, he had strived to live up to that. He was ready to give it another shot.

So two weeks later, when he realized he hadn't done anything about changing things yet, and that he had no excuses now that Taylor was out of the hospital and home from school, Danny had been thinking about his promise to change. And that morning, of all things, _Taylor_ had made _him_ breakfast, and asked him if _he_ was doing okay. Danny felt his resolve harden into steel.

For the first time in years Danny didn't let his convictions fall through. First thing that morning, he followed up on a few leads for some work contracts. Before, he would have just sent an email, but today he called and booked meetings face to face. By lunchtime there were three new contracts available, to keep the boys in work. Instead of eating his lunch alone in his office, he went to the break room and had lunch with Kurt and some of the guys.

And when lunch was over? Danny had gone to his office, opened up a browser, and done some research. He wasn't sure how he'd afford it yet, but he was going to get therapy. He knew he had a problem, and he was going to do something about it. He couldn't, _wouldn't,_ let anything happen to the last happy thing he had in his life. Taylor deserved better from him, and he was damn well going to give it to her. He knew he'd never do this for his own sake. He wasn't entirely sure he was doing this for Taylor, either. But he knew for a fact he was doing this for Annette, or at least the memory of her. That was enough.

So, all in all today had been an okay day.

Up until dinner, anyways.

Danny sat, staring at the floating, ghostly, _purple_ hand that was drifting through his kitchen, getting itself a glass of water. Danny and Taylor hadn't really talked all night, but that wasn't at all unusual. They had made off hand comments to each other during dinner, but not real conversation. He couldn't remember the last time they had an honest to goodness conversation. Taylor had just mumbled something, and he was lifting his head up from his meal to ask her what she said, to maybe try and talk about something, anything, to have a chance to actually communicate with her, when he saw it.

"What the HELL IS THAT?!" Because what else can you say in a situation like that? Danny knew it wasn't him who was doing it. In a world of capes, with the Protectorate, and New Wave, and gangs with super powered villains, you saw things like that on TV all the time. But you never expected to see it in your kitchen, during dinner, getting itself something to drink. It was something that happened to other people. Now it was happening to him.

Danny stared at Taylor, who looked just as shocked as he did. She hadn't even acknowledged him. She was staring at the hand, eyes wide. When he had shouted, the hand had dropped the glass right onto her. She had mumbled something again, waved her hand at herself, and the mess had just disappeared. This wasn't looking good.

Danny desperately needed her to focus, because if he wasn't doing this, then he really didn't want to believe the only other option: she was. But he had to know. This was about her safety. If this had been going on for a while, if she was going out and fighting crime... Danny felt sick.

"TAYLOR." She looked at him then, coming out of her stupor. A look of worry crashed across her face, and Danny knew what she was going to say before she opened her mouth. He just really didn't want to be right.

"Please don't freak out?" Taylor looked at him, eyes wide. Begging. "I think I'm a cape." Danny's world fell away. He wasn't entirely sure what to say. His mouth was moving before he could stop it.

"You think you're a cape." The words slid out of his mouth, accusing. His head was whirling. He felt angry, that she would hide something like this from him. He knew he shouldn't be angry, this was all his fault, but he wasn't being rational. This was big. Bigger than either of their problems. He felt his temper curling, like a snake ready to strike, prepared to lash out at one wrong word. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"I wasn't honestly sure!" Taylor was speaking quickly, not giving him a chance to intercede. "Even after I came back from the psych ward, I could still hear the rushing, I just figured out how to ignore it, and then a week ago I started thinking in a different language, and seeing strange symbols in my head, but I'm not crazy, I'm not! And so I posted in PHO, and nothing happened for _a week_ and I thought I really was crazy. But Myrddin messaged me! Dad, _Myrddin_! He told me he thought I was a wizard, which is stupid, because magic isn't real, but that maybe I was a cape. He asked me not to try anything until I saw him on Saturday, which-. Oh yeah he made a meeting with me at the PRT on Saturday to test if I had powers, but I used them on accident right now I swear! I just needed the water, and it was over there, and the rushing was so loud and it just made sense, and I… I… I'm babbling."

She finally ran out of energy. Danny was staring at her, and he couldn't think of a thing to say. He felt his temper go from 'boiling inferno' to a simple 'exploding rage' as he realized she hadn't known for longer than a week, or possibly until just now, assuming she was telling the truth. _She wasn't keeping things from me_ he thought. _There may be hope for us yet._ He wondered if she was even planning on telling him, or if he only knew about it because this was an accident.

Then it hit him. His anger, his confusion, his everything was wiped away in an instant as he remembered. He was staying up late with Annette one night, talking about capes. Talking about why she quit and left Lustrum behind. When they told Taylor about it, they told her it was because it had gotten too violent. The truth was it was more complicated than that, and violence wasn't the only reason. Annette had confided in him something she had learned about, something she had called a 'Trigger Event'. Annette claimed it shed light on why things were the way they were, on why the violence was always happening in the gangs and around all the capes. Even the heroes seemed to be prone to violence, and he had to admit she was right when he listened to her explanation. It was too much for her, she had claimed. She felt like she was in a gang that was all about revenge, not about equal rights. Danny wasn't worried about that now, though. He was focusing on that one tiny, all important detail.

Trigger events. If Taylor is a cape, she had to Trigger. When had something so horrible-.

The locker.

Danny had known he had failed Taylor. But after Annette had died, and neither of them had Triggered, he'd assumed neither of them could. Danny knew better now. His little girl, the last living breathing remnant of Annette he had, underwent something inherently worse than anything he had ever experienced, and it was because he had failed to protect her. What she went through was more traumatic than what either of them experienced losing Annette. That right there, it almost broke him.

He thought all of this, and realized neither of them had said anything for a while. How long had it been? A minute? Five? Ten? He needed to talk to her, couldn't let this be one more wasted conversation.

She needed him now, and he would be there for her. Selfishly, there was one thing still eating at him, lurking in the back of his mind, something he needed to know.

He mustered up his courage, hating himself for the way his voice shook, how pitiful he sounded, and he asked her the question that was burning to be asked:

"Were you going to tell me?"

Danny wouldn't blame her if she said no. He wouldn't confide in him either. He had let her down, and he didn't deserve it. He was ready for the resounding no, for it to fill his ears and drag him down into the familiar confines of depression and loss.

" _Yes._ " Danny's head whipped up to look at her. She couldn't mean that. But the emotion in her voice, the look in her eyes. She did. She meant it. Why?

"I was trying to figure out how to tell you tonight or tomorrow, so you could come to the meeting with me Saturday. I would have told you sooner, but saying it made it real. And that meant that if I wasn't a cape, my hopes would be crushed. But if I didn't say it out loud, then I wasn't really hoping for it. Which is dumb, I know. I'm sorry."

Danny was floored. She wasn't only going to tell him, she wanted him _involved._ Taylor was forgiving him. She was giving him a second chance. The way she looked at him, when she glanced up after her mini speech, nearly broke his heart. She was alone, and afraid, and she needed him.

Danny had spent too long failing her. He wasn't going to let this second chance go to waste.

He smiled like he hadn't smiled in years.

"You really were going to tell me, huh?" Danny said back. "You know, I know we haven't talked much lately. I don't really know what's going on with school. Mostly we just kind of sit here, together in the house. That's my fault as much as it is yours. I miss your Mom so damn much, kiddo, that I think I've been kind of a bad parent."

"Dad, no, you -"

"Don't interrupt. We both know it's true." Danny needed her to understand. Needed her to know that he knew he had failed. That things would be different now. He tried to put as much emotion, as much meaning into his voice as he could.

"That ends now. You are the most important thing in the world to me. You always have been, even if I got a little side tracked for a bit, wallowing in myself. But knowing you, now that you've got powers, you're going to want to use them. Be a hero." Danny stared at her expectantly. She was Annette's daughter, after all.

"Uhm." She did occasionally take after him though. He had been speechless like that more than once in his life, when he wasn't prepared for something. Taylor continued "I hadn't really gotten that far? I'm still on the whole 'glad I'm not really crazy' thing. But I've wanted to be a hero since I was little. I doubt the Wards will want me, but maybe I could go independent? Or find another team, a small one, one I could trust. I think that might be nice."

Taylor's small voice, her lack of confidence in herself were just more breaks in Danny's heart. He wanted to see her smile again, the way she had while she was babbling about having powers, when she said that Myrddin had messaged her. Which was something they needed to have a serious conversation about. Later.

Then Danny had an image of Taylor, at five years old, running around with a towel around her neck, pretending to be Alexandria. Jumping off the couch pretending she could fly. He chuckled at the memory.

"I haven't forgotten, don't you worry. I'm pretty sure those Armsmaster underwear are still in your room." Danny couldn't remember the last time he had teased her about something. The last time he he had seen her that embarrassed. It reminded him of so many good times.

 _I didn't even realize how badly I've been missing this,_ he thought _I suppose I just needed something big enough to shake me so I could feel it._

"It doesn't matter how old they get, embarrassing your kids, and watching them turn that particular shade of red is one of the greatest joys found in being a parent." He intoned sagely, with mock importance. That was one of Annette's favorite sayings. He felt a little stab of pain, saying it without her. But the smile on Taylor's face made up for it, if not completely, then at least enough.

"So does this mean you'll come to the PRT with me on Saturday? My meeting with Myrddin is at three."

Danny sighed, happy to be reminded. She really did want him to come with her. "Of course I'll come with you. And if you want to join the Wards, that's definitely something we can ask about, or we can ask about our other options. I don't know much about law, and I don't want to mess this up. Maybe I should call Alan, see if he can help, or if he knows anybody who can?"

Suggestions. Trying to help. Making things better. Danny could do this. It wasn't easy, but he could.

"Well," Taylor started, pensively. Silently to himself, Danny thought _There's more?_ "You know how you said we haven't been great at that whole 'dad-daughter communication' thing?" Danny nodded. What in the world did the Wards or Alan Barnes have to do with their inability to communicate, or his depression?

"Well I think we should fix that. Like, right now. I really don't want you to get mad, at me or anyone else, but I think you deserve to know the truth. I mean, if you can handle my third purple hand, hopefully you can handle everything else." Taylor smiled again, and it calmed Danny down. Nothing could be that bad if she kept smiling like that. He smiled back at her.

In point of fact, some things can be that bad, regardless of how much your daughter smiles. Danny read through a whole notebook, full of pure evil, and now had permanently etched into his mind three names: Emma. Madison. Sophia.

There were other names of course, but those three were the centerpiece. Late though it was, Danny had to be physically restrained by his own daughter from turning one of his _former_ best friends into a stuttering, beaten up, pile of shit.

Eventually, Danny went from blowing up to raging, and from raging to terrifying, from terrifying to simmering.

By that point it was late. They both needed to sleep. Kissing her lightly on the head, Danny went to his own room as she went to hers. It was lonely, like it always was. He laid down, and closed his eyes. For the most part, today had been an okay day. At the end, today had been a horrifying day. Almost as terrifying as seeing Taylor in the hospital. But as he lay in his bed, he remembered a few brief moments where Taylor and he had smiled and laughed, very close to how they used to. He held onto that feeling as he drifted off to sleep, refusing to let go.

Because for just a few brief moments, today had been a good day.

* * *

A/N: So it was mentioned to me that the scene in Arc 1 where Taylor showed her powers to Danny, it didn't seem like Danny had an appropriate emotional response. While writing it, I was inside Danny's head, and so it made sense. In rereading it, I think that I didn't do such a great job or give a good enough justification for Danny's reactions. That's where this interlude came from. I think it did what I wanted it to do.


	10. Party Dynamics 2-1

**2.1 Party Dynamics AKA 'So, You All Meet in a Tavern…'**

I couldn't stop my leg from bouncing as I sat in the car next to Dad, driving over the force field bridge to the Protectorate HQ. I hadn't been there since my tour with school from a few years ago, and this time it was for an entirely different reason. I was going there to personally meet the Wards.

They weren't expecting a tour group; they were expecting me. They were expecting their new teammate. So yeah, I had a lot of nervous energy to go around. It mostly got filtered into my knee as I bounced it up and down. The rest of it was put into squeezing my notebook, _the notebook¸_ as tightly as possible.

Walking through the waiting area, I couldn't help but compare it with the PRT Headquarters. The PRT was like any other office building, with a receptionist and uncomfortable chairs. The only difference was the exorbitant amount of guards standing around. The PHQ, on the other hand, was much nicer. There were pictures of all the local Brockton Bay heroes all along the walls, surrounding the high quality leather chairs and couches. The place was still filled with guards, but the atmosphere felt different. Less 'bureaucratic building' and more 'high quality waiting area.'

The receptionist smiled as I let her know I was scheduled to have a meeting with a cape named Gwydion. Apparently, they hadn't had time to come up with a new code name for me, and I definitely hadn't come up with anything better. I hadn't actually had any time to put much thought into it since yesterday. I figured whoever was in charge of PR would help me, whenever they scheduled my first meeting. I still wasn't sure if I wanted to visit Parian or not for help with my image.

I was directed to another conference room, and hugged my Dad as I said goodbye. I would be staying for a couple hours, probably. When we had scheduled this meeting, it had been implied that it would be more than just "this is your new teammate, say hello, say goodbye" and more like an opportunity to hang out. That thought was a little too much for me to focus on. The idea of hanging out with kids my age, of potentially having friends, was a bit out of my comfort zone. Add in the fact that those kids were the Wards, and I was blatantly ignoring how nervous that made me.

I frowned as I entered the conference room and saw the same thing I saw last time sitting on the table. I set my notebook down as I picked up the unexpected object. A small black domino mask. I had already signed up as an official parahuman. Why would I need to wear a mask if I was meeting people who already knew my identity?

I heard the door open as two costumed figures walked in.

"Wow, unmasking already? I always knew I was trustworthy." That was Assault. Holy crap, that was Assault! They were really pulling out all the stops. They could have just brought in a guard to show me directions to where the Wards were, but I was getting a tour from the freaking Protectorate.

Battery and Assault were standing in front of me as though they weren't famous members of the Protectorate. It was like their presence wasn't a big deal. All I had to do was meet Dauntless and Velocity and I'd have met the whole team.

Assault stood there, slouching, with his slim red armor. His face was covered from the nose up, with a half visor. It left a clear view of his smirk, and I got the feeling he may have designed the costume specifically for that reason. Battery, on the other hand, looked like a human shaped circuit board made of dark-grey and blue. She was glaring hard at him, and it looked like she was trying hard to not look at me. Weird.

"Uhm," I began "unmasking? Don't you already know who I am? I signed up yesterday as an official parahuman. My name is on record."

Battery just smiled as she continued looking at Assault. "Your secret identity is still secret. The only people who are cleared to know it unless you choose to unmask are your local PRT Director, local head of the Protectorate, and the Chief Director of the PRT. Not even the Triumvirate are allowed to know, unless you're assigned to their Wards division, or you decide to tell them." I was shocked. I didn't realize how seriously they took the whole secret identity thing.

I hastened to put my mask on. "Do you mind if I keep this, then? I don't have one at home, and I didn't think to get one."

"That should be fine. Did you come up with a name other than Gwydion between now and yesterday?" Battery was leading us out of the conference room. I was about to respond, when Assault perked up.

"Wait, that's you? You're Glinda?" Battery elbowed him in the side. Weren't they a couple? They were certainly acting like it.

"Uh, no? Who's Glinda?" I didn't like where this was going.

"Glinda the Good Witch? Wizard of Oz? You're the new girl who uses magic!" Assault seemed to find this incredibly amusing. I, on the other hand, did not.

"No." My voice was firm. I hoped. "I do not use magic. I have super powers. Grab bag cape.

Myrddin _thinks_ my powers are magic. He also _thinks_ his powers might be magic. But he doesn't know for sure."

I was torn between respect for the literary reference, and anger that everyone already seemed to know that Myrddin thought my powers were magic. Also, my respect for Assault grew a little more as I kicked myself mentally for not thinking of the name. Granted, I hadn't done a lot of research, but I did do a little bit into most of the famous female names associated with magic. I had looked for names in history, mythology, and literature. Nearly all of them were evil, or considered goddesses. I wasn't evil, and I definitely didn't have an ego that big. The fact that he had thought of one that was good, even if it did have too many sparkles associated with it, was kind of impressive. We stepped into an elevator, and Assault pushed a button as he continued.

"So you _are_ Glinda. Oh, this is great. I can't wait until you meet Rich." His eyes gleamed, and he smiled wide. It was not a reassuring look. I had a feeling I was not going to be looking forward to meeting Rich. But my curiosity was piqued.

"Who's Rich? Should I be worried?" I looked to Battery for help. Maybe she could keep Assault in line?

Apparently not. "Oh, he's our local PR guy. He's like a mini version of Glenn Chambers, in every sense of the word. Glenn Chambers is our head honcho of PR. Don't worry, Glenn only handles problem cases. Like me. Rich is actually not so bad. But he is going to gocrazy with the chance to do a better version of Myrddin. It's one of his pet peeves. He's been talking about you all day, you know."

Assault winked. I gulped. Dammit, this is the opposite of what I wanted to happen.

I looked between the two of them, begging them for help. "I really, seriously do not want to be the next Myrddin. There's got to be a way to not get pigeonholed into the whole 'magic' thing. Any suggestions? Please?"

Battery took pity on me. "They're supposed to take your opinion on it into account. Just be firm with him, and you shouldn't have a problem. Rich may be… eccentric, but he isn't a bad guy. And yes, Ass, him calling you out on everything you do wrong is a good thing, not a bad one. So shut it." Assault, who looked like he was in the middle of trying to respond, promptly closed his mouth.

I was about to ask more questions when I realized the elevator had opened. I hadn't realized it had stopped. That was smooth. We walked into a large room, which I remembered from my last trip to the PHQ. It was a small waiting room, and beyond the large metal door directly in front of us was the Wards living area and work stations.

All other thoughts of magic, and costumes quickly left me. This was it. It was really happening. These people would be my future teammates. I'd only get one chance at a first impression, and I didn't want to mess it up. I took a few calming breaths and put on my biggest smile. I could do this.

Battery walked over to a small panel and punched in a few numbers. Then she leaned down for a retinal scan. Wow, intense security. We then proceeded to wait. And wait. And wait. Until finally the doors clicked open.

"The waiting gives them time to put their masks on," Assault leaned over and whispered. "Safety precautions, all that jazz." I nodded. That made sense.

When the door opened, I saw a vaguely familiar sight. I remembered that there was a large computer monitor, and it was still there. I remembered that there were couches laid about, and a large TV, and they were all still there. But it had been so long ago, and I hadn't really been paying attention, that I took it all in like it was my first time.

And then there was the main event. Standing in the center of the room, lined up to meet me, were Clockblocker, Aegis, Vista, and Miss Militia. I could tell them all just by costume. I'd willingly admit to being something of a cape geek, but it really wasn't that hard. Clockblocker was obviously the one with clocks all up and down his costume. Miss Militia I had already met. Vista was iconic in Brockton Bay, with her green, swirling outfit and the 'V' on her helmet. Knowing Aegis just by his rust-red costume with silver trim shield did mark me as a cape geek, but I didn't care. Meeting them was just awesome.

Vista was the only one who was a Ward back when I had visited before, roughly three years ago. Every other Ward was newer than her, and this whole team had been together for a while. I wanted to say hi. I wanted to say anything. But my mouth wouldn't work. Luckily, as I was escorted in, someone else spoke up first.

"Hi!" Vista was smiling at me. "I'm Vista. You're the new girl, right?" I nodded in response. I'd say she ran towards me, but that would be misleading. She was at least a good 20 feet away, but she took just one step, and then suddenly: _VISTA._ It was startling. I would have jumped back if she hadn't caught me in a hug.

"Good. We need more girls on the team. Being the only girl is hard. That means I get to claim you as a best friend, and you have to back me up against the guys." I saw Aegis share a grimace with Miss Militia.

"Wait, only girl? Isn't Shadow Stalker a Ward? I'm pretty sure she's a girl." I looked around, and the grimaces only deepened. I was definitely missing something.

"So I'm Clockblocker!" Clockblocker derailed that line of inquiry. Curiouser and curiouser. "That's Aegis, you've met Miss Militia, and Kid Win is around here somewhere." He looked over his shoulder and shouted at the giant computer. "KID WIN! COME SAY HI!"

"I CAN'T YOU IDIOT, I'M ON THE CONSOLE." A voice shouted back. I assumed it was Kid Win.

"That's alright." I spoke up. "It's just great to meet any of you. You're all... awesome. This is awesome. Everything is awesome." Yeah I was star struck. I didn't even mind that I was making a fool of myself.

"So you really are joining? We don't have to give you the pitch?" Clockblocker looked hopeful.

"Yeah, I'm definitely joining. I mean, I haven't handed in the paperwork yet, but I'm just getting it looked over. It should be done later this week. I'll officially be part of the team by Friday at the latest." I smiled as I realized just how close I was to being a Ward.

"Oh thank god. Usually we have to fight tooth and nail to get anybody to consider joining, and if they don't join up, we get yelled at. Like it's _our fault_ that people go out on their own, or decide to join the gangs!" Now he was just complaining. But it couldn't be that bad of a problem, could it?

"Really? Because I checked. The Merchants don't exactly have a great retirement plan. How many newbies willingly join the gangs?"

Clockblocker and Assault laughed out loud in unison. I had to take a second to remind myself that they were laughing _with_ me not _at_ me. I had made a joke, they had laughed, and that was a good thing. I was feeling better and more comfortable by the minute.

"You'd be surprised." That was Aegis. He didn't sound at all like I expected. He looked so stoic in his armor, but his voice wasn't all low and gravelly. He sounded almost normal.

"Yeah, a lot of people make pretty dumb decisions." Vista said at my side. She wasn't hugging me anymore, but she was standing close.

After that, they gave me the tour. It was nice. None of them unmasked to me, and Vista even apologized for it, but I didn't mind. I didn't unmask to them either. Now that I knew my secret identity was actually still secret, I wanted to keep it that way for just a little while longer.

Assault and Battery (and didn't I feel stupid for not picking up the connotations of his name until he said it with a smirk) left shortly after, but Miss Militia stayed around. We all just lounged in the main area, getting to know one another. It was something I hadn't had in a long while Pleasant conversation. Relaxing.

We talked about Arcadia, but no one asked about where I went. I supposed it was too close to asking about my civilian life. We talked about my cape name, or lack thereof, which led to a talk about my powers.

"So, wait, you really do magic?" Clockblocker asked, turning to look at me from his spot next to me on the couch. I was really getting tired of that question. Vista, sitting on the couch across the room, smacked him upside the head from where she was sitting. It was like she was just looking for excuses to do it. He seemed to be trying hard to give them to her.

"No." I stressed. "I do not do magic. I will admit," I said, with a glance to Miss Militia "that it's possible what Myrddin does is magic. And that I don't know everything about powers or about magic. But I staunchly believe that I'm a parahuman, not a wizard."

"Wouldn't you be a witch?" Clockblocker again. I wanted to give him a dirty look, but all that came out was an impressed glare. Not many people cared about semantics enough to know that wizards weren't generally female. Didn't mean I didn't get my revenge.

I took another good look at his costume. It was really well done, a sleek greyish-silver color. The armored panels all gave him a full range of movement. In between the panels were strategically placed clock designs. The largest one was on his chest, and the rest were scattered around the costume. His mask was a stylish design, with no eye or mouth holes. Instead of where his face would be, there was his standard clock design. I assumed it was some kind of tinkertech involved that let him see through the ceramic helmet.

I smiled at him as I murmured " **[Prestidigitation]."** I wasn't sure it would work, worried that any tinkertech involved would block my power. Luckily, that didn't happen. His armor was still mostly a cool grey/silver design; it just had a new hot pink focus. I changed the color of the clock that substituted for his face, making it pop just a bit more.

"What did you call me?" I asked sweetly.

"HEY! What did you do?! Everything is pink! FIX IT!"

"I said, what did you call me?"

It was at this point that the dam broke, and everybody else in the room started laughing. Every single Ward pulled out their phone to take a picture, and I made sure I smiled for each one. Clockblocker was still raving through each picture. Eventually, he succumbed.

"I'm sorry, you're not a witch, it's not magic, please, please fix it!"

"Don't worry," I grinned at him "I'm pretty sure it won't last longer than an hour."

"You're worse than Vista." He muttered. I didn't care. He wasn't really upset, and he kind of deserved it for calling me a witch.

That whole debacle instigated a conversation about our powers. Soon enough it became a show and tell. I had gotten most of the way through all my uses of prestidigitation when Miss Militia looked at her watch.

"Vista, Aegis, aren't you guys due on patrol in a few minutes?" They both looked at the clock on the wall, then sighed.

"Yeah, we are. We don't normally go until the others get back though. Gallant and Shadow Stalker should be back within about 10 minutes, we'll leave then." She glared at them.

"Vista. What is the proper way to start a patrol?"

"Wards are to be ready to leave for patrol 15 minutes prior to start of patrol. By the start of the patrol, Wards should be already engaged in patrol."

"So, you're saying you planned on being late? Not the best first impression for the newbie. Why don't you take her with you, and do a _proper_ patrol? I'll have Kid Win give me a full report to make sure you did everything by the book." She turned to me. "You don't mind using Gwydion as a code name for now, do you? At least until you meet with PR?"

"Not really, no. But," I faltered. I really wanted to go on patrol. I had my doubts though, and I didn't want anyone getting in trouble because of me. "Aren't I supposed to stay off patrol until I get trained? I thought that's what Director Piggot said."

Miss Militia looked thoughtful for a moment, then I saw her eyes crinkle into a smile. "Technically, you haven't handed in your paperwork. Which means you aren't a Ward. You're outside our chain of command. Independent parahumans can patrol whenever and however they want." Maybe a little against the spirit of the rules, if not the letter, but I'd take what I could get.

"Then I'd love to go with you guys!" This was going to be awesome. But first…

"Miss Militia? Remember that, uh, thing we talked about yesterday? The one you said you guys were looking into?"

"Yes." Her whole demeanor changed, and she looked concerned as I brought it up. _Now or never_ , I told myself.

"I thought this might help." I shoved the notebook in her arms. The night before, I had stayed up late copying every word into a new notebook, so I could still keep a copy. I had also printed out a bunch of the hate mail I got to my most recent email address.

She started leafing through the notebook, and her eyes sharpened. "Do you have last names for these people?"

"Oh! Yeah, sorry. I didn't even think to write down their last names." I took it from her, and wrote down a list in the front cover.

Emma Barnes, Madison Clements, Sophia Hess. I underlined each of those, then continued the list of everyone else I could remember having mentioned.

"If I forgot anyone, just let me know. If I read it, I'll remember it and who it was."

She looked up from the large sheaf of printed out emails. "These are all from this year?" She asked. She was starting to look angry. Good. Most of those were death threats, or worse.

"No." She looked relieved. I almost hated to take that away from her. "Those are from December. I have to change my email every two or three weeks because it gets to be so much that I can't delete them fast enough. They get cluttered up, and if I try to block the emails that send them, new email usernames pop up and just pick up where the last ones left off."

She had a hard look in her eyes as she looked at me. "This will be handled."

For a brief moment, I honestly believed her.

* * *

A/N: So here's the start of the new arc! I've got this arc planned out, but I don't have it all written out yet. What with finals coming up, it may be slow going. I'm staying optimistic though! As always, reviews are welcome, and I look forward to reading them. Another big thanks to wizerd00 for continuing to be an awesome beta reader!


	11. Party Dynamics 2-2

As we walked down the street, I mentally went over the list of all the reasons I regretted my decision. First, I didn't actually have a costume. All I had was a tiny domino mask, and my hair was done up a different way. Second, I hadn't actually let Dad know that I was going on patrol. I needed to call him and let him know what was going on. I wasn't looking forward to it.

"Uh, do either of you have your phone? I need to call and let my Dad know. I didn't really expect to be going out tonight." I smiled sheepishly.

Aegis handed out his phone for me. "That's my personal phone."

I dialed the home phone, and no one picked up. I reluctantly put in the number for Dad's new cell phone. It annoyed me that not only was he right, but that it turned out his stupid phone was useful almost right away.

"Hello?" He answered. Dangit, I was kind of hoping I could leave a message.

"Hey Dad, it's me. I'm going out with Aegis and Vista. They're taking me on patrol." I crossed my fingers as I waited.

"...Let me talk to Aegis." Okay, not a good sign, but also not a bad sign.

"Uh, he wants to talk to you?" I handed the phone in Aegis' direction.

"Hello, sir. Yes. Uh huh. No, we shouldn't really run into anything. We normally don't, on Sunday night. And if we do, it would be cleared by someone in the Protectorate as something all three of us could handle, taking her lack of experience into account." That one stung a little bit, but I knew it was true.

I didn't really want to listen to Aegis assuage my Dad's fears, so I walked over to Vista. She had her finger by her ear, and she was mumbling something.

"Yeah, assisted on patrol by new independent cape, grab bag powers. Little to no experience." Seriously? Everywhere I went, it got thrown in my face. Sometimes, the truth hurts.

She dropped her hand, and turned to smile at me. "Sorry, just going through procedures. With Miss Militia going hardcore for following the rules, it's better to be safe than sorry."

That made me feel a little better. We continued on, Aegis having joined back up with us, and kept up on our patrol. It was a surreal feeling, being out with them. I didn't feel like a hero. But apparently, being a hero wasn't very exciting. There's a lot of walking, and a lot of looking around. It was somewhat anti-climactic, for the first hour or so. Then we heard the scream.

We took off towards the direction of the scream, and we came upon an alley. We saw what looked like two girls surrounded by 5 large men. Each of them were wearing red and green: ABB colors. I wondered how they became a serious gang with colors like those; they always reminded me of Christmas. Certain stores deep in ABB territory actually looked like they had Christmas decorations up all year round, with lots of red and green. I always found it silly.

I was broken out of my odd moment of reverie by the soft sound of Aegis's whisper. "Console, we have an altercation in progress. Looks to be five hostiles and two civilians. I count one firearm, three knives, and one blunt weapon. No additional capes in sight. Are we cleared to proceed?"

Holy crap, we went from friendly to serious real quick. I looked at the gang members in the alleyway and took a deep breath. I could do this.

Aegis looked at me, then at Vista. "Okay. Vista, warp us in, try and get us to surround them. Warp the space between the girls and them as far away as you can. Put me right in front of the one with the gun, and I'll try and take that one out before he has a chance to get a shot off. Gwydion, if you can, try and keep away from the knives, and go for the one with the club. Our armor is better than yours, and should be more capable of taking on a knife."

Yeah, that was an understatement. I was suddenly feeling very vulnerable in my jeans and hoodie. I wasn't about to back down now, though. I could hear the jeers from the gang members, and the pleading from the girls. Definitely not backing down.

I realized that even in my useless clothes, I still had a defense. **"[Mage Armor]."** I whispered, behind the wall and out of sight from the muggers in the alley. I felt my crystal warm slightly against my chest as I used it to mold the energy I needed. I flashed gold for a second, not emitting any sound, before the spectral armor melted away from sight. I could still feel it though, surrounding me. Protecting me. Pure force, keeping me from harm.

"On my mark." I tensed up as I waited for Aegis to give us the go ahead. "Go."

The space between myself and the muggers shifted. As I took a step, it looked like a kaleidoscope view of a fun house. With just that single step, I was there. I saw Aegis and Vista, and between the three of us we formed a triangle around the gangbangers. The two girls also seemed to be at least a couple hundred feet away. It was weird, knowing this was a small alley, but seeing them so far away.

Aegis wasn't messing around. He didn't let the element of surprise go to waste, and I saw the guy with the gun drop to the ground, hard. That made me feel a lot better. I looked through the guys and found the one with the lead pipe. That would be the 'blunt object' Aegis mentioned.

One of the muggers shouted "CAPES!" and then everything happened very quickly. They all started to scatter, but we more or less had them surrounded. I wanted to make sure the one with the lead pipe was the one to come after me, so I let off a quick " **[Firebolt]"** in his direction. To my immense surprise, it hit him.

With a shout of "FUCK!" he looked at me. He sneered, and charged in my direction, lead pipe held high. Menacingly. I panicked. I started backing up, not wanting to get hit. I didn't know how to fight, and he hadn't been knocked out by my fire. But if he hit me dead on, I knew I would be going down. He held it in his right hand, on my left, so I tried to step to my right as he got closer. He swung at me, and the lead pipe hit me right in the head.

There was a flash of gold light where it hit, and the lead pipe bounced away. I smiled as I realized my power had protected me. I had forgotten about it in the heat of the moment, but it still worked perfectly.

"What the hell?" He snarled, as he went to hit me again.

I shot my hands out and brushed it against him as I whispered " **[Shocking Grasp]."** His body froze up, tensing, as electricity coursed through him. I wasn't holding on to him though, I had just touched him. He fell to his knees, and a few moments later started breathing heavy. I didn't know what else to do. He was still awake, and I didn't want to kill him.

Thinking fast, I pushed him down from on his knees to laying on his stomach, and I sat on his back. Hopefully he wouldn't be strong enough to stand up until Aegis or Vista finished their guys. I looked in their direction, and saw one of the gang bangers barreling in my direction! I reacted with another **"[Firebolt]!"** but I missed by a large margin. It did work in managing to get him to switch directions, so he wasn't running in a direct collision course with me. He moved right past me on my left, out of my reach. I knew I wasn't strong enough to grab him and hold him, even if I could reach him. Worse, I could feel the guy underneath me stirring, starting to move. Then a thought struck me.

Here's the thing: when we tested my spectral hand, the PRT and I had found out that it's pretty weak. At most, I could only get it to lift about 15 pounds. Not nearly enough to grab a grown man by the back of the shirt and keep him in place.

But definitely strong enough to trip someone.

" **[Mage Hand]."** I called out. My spectral third hand appeared in front of him, low to the ground. He didn't notice as it appeared. He didn't notice as he ran right at it. He did notice as it grabbed his ankle, and he went sprawling into the ground. I wouldn't be able to hold him long, but at least I'd been able to stop him from getting away. I needed something to keep both these guys down permanently.

As the mugger I had tripped started standing up, I realized I had the perfect response to keep both of them down, for at least a short while.

" **[Sleep]."** I murmured, letting my power fall over both the guy on the ground, and the guy I was sitting on. As I used the crystal again to shape the power I was using, I thanked myself for purchasing that crystal. Definitely a strong investment. It really made everything much more convenient. They wouldn't be asleep for long, only a minute or so. But it would give me the freedom to check on Aegis and Vista.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and turned towards it, ready to let out another jolt of electricity. " **[Shocking-."**

I stopped, as I realized it was Aegis. Vista stood further into the alley, putting zip ties around a guy she had on the ground in a very nasty, painful looking hold. I was impressed. That guy was easily two, if not three times her size.

"Good job. How long will they stay out?" Aegis said, as he gently pushed me off the guy I was sitting on.

"About a minute? I would zip tie them up as quickly as possible." The adrenaline was leaving me now, and I felt tired. I hadn't moved that much. I hadn't even done all that much in general. Just a few spe-... powers. Just a few powers thrown around, and a huge amount of danger. But it had felt good. I had felt good. I smiled at him, and I walked over to the two girls who were huddled against the side of the alley. They weren't so far away anymore.

"Good job for your first time out." Vista said as we walked over. "You caught two of them. That guy wouldn't have gotten away, I had the exit space shrunk down to about an inch, but those were good instincts. What exactly _are_ the rest of your powers, anyways? I saw fire, it looked like you tased that guy with your fingers, and _holy crap what is that?!_ " Apparently, that's going to be the reaction I get every time someone sees my extra hand. Honestly, it's really not that weird.

"That would be my extra hand. It's not really that strange, is it? It feels perfectly natural."

"Are you sure you aren't a witch? Or a wizard? Because that is the weirdest bag of grab bag powers I have _ever_ seen." Aegis said as he walked back to us from the guy I had tripped, shaking his head. "And you even put them to sleep, too. I mean, it's wearing off, but still. Such a weird-."

"I get it. My powers are weird. But they're still _powers._ " I cut him off. I had to nip that line of thinking in the bud. For both of us.

"Are you alright?" I bent down to ask the two girls as I helped them both up. They couldn't be older than I was.

"Y-Yeah. We'll be okay. Thanks." The one on the left had red hair, and reminded me vaguely of Emma. I refused to let myself believe that red haired girls were inherently evil, but I had to work at it.

"If you don't mind, we'd like you to stay and make a statement to the cops. You don't have to, of course, if you don't feel up to it. We can get your contact information and let you go. But staying and helping now makes it easier for everyone." Vista took over.

"Yeah, I think we could probably do that. Thanks, really." That was the second girl, on the right. A blonde girl with a soft face. They were both shaking like leaves in a hurricane. I could only imagine.

"It should only be about ten minutes." I noticed that even as he spoke, Aegis let Vista and I be the ones who made direct contact with the girls. Smart. I wasn't entirely sure what those guys planned on doing to these girls, but I was willing to make a guess.

"And now comes the boring part." Vista whispered to me as we rounded up the gang members and sat them on the curb. "Waiting for the cops."

I smiled as she said it. I didn't really mind. I had just noticed something. Something big, and important. I had access to my 'power library,' as I had taken to calling it.

I could choose another power. This was going to be great.

* * *

AN: As always a huge thanks to my beta readers. Wizerd00, roffster, assembler, and modigar had a chance to go over this one. As usual, they're help is a tremendous benefit!


	12. Party Dynamics 2-3

2.3

I managed to make it all the way until I closed the door to my room until I broke down. I gave my statement to the police without any problems, and then I got walked home by Aegis and Vista. They reminded me to take my mask off a few blocks from home, which I had forgotten about. When I got inside, I gave my Dad a huge hug and begged off to bed. I promised I'd tell him everything the next morning.

But when I closed the door behind me, I fell down to my knees, shaking. I had just been in one of the scariest experiences of my life. That guy had come at me with the intent to not just hurt me, but kill me! The only reason I managed to survive, and was not currently unconscious in an alley, was due to my protective power. It was a sobering thought.

I took deep breaths to try and calm my nerves. I hadn't been expecting any of that to happen today. I didn't think Miss Militia was either, or she wouldn't have suggested that I go. I definitely saw the merits in joining the Wards program and getting training. I had acted on instinct and pure adrenaline, and it almost got me killed.

Eventually, I calmed down enough from the shock of how crazy my night had been to move to bed. As I was about to drift off, I remembered that I'd regained access to my power library. I started mentally leafing through all the possibilities. There were just as many as I remembered, which didn't make my decision any easier. In the end, I decided I had enough offensive power; I wasn't sure I was all that comfortable throwing fire at people. Fire tends to be pretty deadly. In retrospect, I wasn't sure I should have used it on those gangbangers, and I should have probably saved it for brutes. I was acting on instinct, so I didn't blame myself; it just reaffirmed my need for training.

In the end, I came down to only a few really good options. There was another purely defensive power, a stronger one that didn't last long that I was heavily tempted to take. There was a stranger type power, one that would let me change my clothes and my looks. I considered getting that, then just wearing PRT body armor for my costume, and using my power to make it look however PR told me to make it look. My last good option was something that made me incredibly faster. After seeing how dangerous just a handful of gangbangers could be, I was heavily considering that one. Tactical retreat sounded more and more like a sound strategy.

I dithered back and forth for most of the night, until I finally picked the defensive power. My force armor had saved my life tonight, making it worth it to invest in more powers like it.

Monday afternoon found me sitting alone at my normal computer in the library, where I was bemoaning the inevitability of my situation. I had wanted some peace and quiet to start working on translating the book Myrddin had lent me. It had started off pretty well, and I was enjoying it more than I thought I would.

I had stopped translating, and just started reading by the start of the second chapter.

It was at the end of the third chapter where things started to take a turn for the worse, at which point I slid away the book and my notebook of translations away from myself.

"The world around us is alive, in a way that most people are closed off to. For those of this world with a sensitivity, or a proclivity toward the arcane, they will feel the ebb and flow of the universe. The mystic energy rushes like the ocean, lapping against the beach of one's mind. One must be careful, to never become too far gone into the realm of the Arts. For those who dive too deep may never resurface."

What I had read was an exact description of the way my powers felt. It was written by some person I had never met, from almost 2000 years ago. Worse, it was in a language that, so far, only one other person on earth had even been able to recognize. Any single one of those facts would have been enough to make me doubt; each of them were making me doubt myself. When added together it was making my denials look increasingly petty. I clung to the fact that there was only one source here, from one long ago person, and it was possible it was all just an incredible coincidence. Cape stuff was weird, right? Even if this book had been supposedly written before capes were a thing, there was so little we actually knew.

There were theories that the gods and myths of old were actually all stories of old capes, who had died off, and then the powers had re-emerged for some reason with Scion's appearance.

Granted it wasn't a popular theory, but it was still a theory.

On the whole, however, it was looking increasingly likely that Myrddin was right. I wasn't a parahuman; magic was real. Dammit.

That meant my powers were spells. My head was whirling as I considered the implications.

Didn't you need to train to learn spells? It just seemed to come to me. I'm pretty sure that every book or story I'd ever read had wizards as these huge, powerful people that had spent years studying their craft. I was mostly just winging it, and doing what felt right. The fact that it kept working regardless was either incredibly reassuring, or majorly distressing.

I needed to talk to Myrddin again, to get his opinion on my situation.

Because I certainly wasn't about to listen to anyone else. I had been curious about what the rest of the world thought of Myrddin's belief in magic. I looked up some old threads on PHO, from Myrddin's official entrance into the Protectorate, to some of his biggest captures. Some people were incredibly supportive. Some people were… not.

 **Welcome to the Parahumans Online Message Boards**

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 **Topic: Introducing Myrddin!**

 **In: Boards ► Places ► America ► Chicago**

 **Bagrat** (Original Poster) (The Guy In The Know) (Veteran Member)

Posted on July 14, 2008:

Press release just came out this morning, folks! We've got a new cape in Chicago! Let's give a warm welcome to Myrddin!

 **(Showing Page 5 of 20)**

[INDENT]

 **► Antigone**

Replied on June 16, 2008:

Look, I'm not saying that he's wrong. I'm just saying that it's unlikely that he's right. Also, does anyone know if he believes that ALL parahuman powers are actually magic? Or if he just believes that his specifically are? Couldn't find that in the press release.

 **► ArchmageEin**

Replied on June 16, 2008:

Honestly, I'm pretty stoked about this. I don't think enough credit has been given to the idea that powers are beyond the comprehension of science.

Have a little faith, you know?

 **► Chrome**

Replied on June 16, 2008:

Honestly. Magic? Does he have a top hat and a wand too?

If so, I've got a bridge he might be interested in purchasing.

Honestly.

 **► Chicago_Mod**

Replied on June 16, 2008:

Chrome Just a heads up, you're edging towards inflammatory comments. I don't want to hand out infractions if I can avoid it. Figured I'd give you a warning.

Also, always good to see more heroes fighting the good fight. Regardless of the source of his powers, anybody else interested in how versatile they are?

 **► Valkyr**

Replied on June 16, 2008:

Oooh, fun. A new wiki page to set up. I'm with the mod, anybody got more info besides his press release on powers, abilities, and all that jazz?

 **► TheGnat**

Replied on June 16, 2008:

Powers include:

Wand waving; finding birds in top hats; pulling colored silk out of thin air; sick card tricks that will BLOW YOUR MIND.

 **► Sothoth**

Replied on June 16, 2008:

Anybody else worried that he might be right? I seriously hope he isn't. Cape I can handle. Wizards are where I draw the line. If we let wizards in, next thing you know we'll all be in a cult drinking the kool-aid!

 **► Mr. Fabuu** (Temp-banned)

Replied on June 16, 2008:

Thou halt not suffer a witch to live. Exodus 22:18

 **► Chicago_Mod**

Replied on June 16, 2008:

Honestly, guys. Is it too much to ask that we all just be respectful?

 **► Lolitup**

Replied on June 16, 2008:

Apparently? It is too much to ask. Sorry you've got to deal with that.

 **End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 ... 18 , 19, 20**

I needed to talk to Myrddin about all this, all the thoughts swirling in my head. I didn't want to just message him out of the blue. But I had a reason to message him anyways, so I took advantage of it. I had the first chapter, and the forward, of the book translated. I switched away from PHO, and opened up a word document to type up my translations.

I sent Myrddin a message on PHO, with my translation files attached. Hopefully he'd respond soon enough.

 **Private message from CuriousCurls:**

 **CuriousCurls:** Hello Myrddin! Hope you're doing well. I finished the translations for the first two chapters of the book. Hope all is going well!

Here's a link to the translations, feel free to download them.

So, I've been giving it a lot of thought. And I'm willing to admit that my powers might, possibly, in some respect be considered magic. But the thing is, from everything I've ever read, people who use magic are supposed to study for years before they're ready to use magic. Did you study, do I need to study anything? Because so far, everything seems instinctual. If you could get back to me when you get a chance, I'd really appreciate it!

Talk Soon,

Taylor

* * *

Author's Note: So, I'm back. Sorry for disappearing! Writer's block + Real Life shenanigans = a lack of writing getting done. But here's where we stand: That prologue? Gone. After rereading it, I really didn't like it. Currently, I have up to the end of Arc 2 written, and mostly or completely beta read, along with the Arc 2 interlude. I have a rough outline of what I want to happen in Arc 3 and 4. I plan to release one or two updates a week. My hope is that by the time Arc 2 is released, I will have finished Arc 3 and it will be beta read. Let's see how well that works out for me

As always, huge thanks goes to wizerd00 for being an awesome beta. Seriously, guys, he rocks. Like, a lot.


	13. Party Dynamics 2-4

I was dressed in my nicest clothes, heading into a small meeting room at the Dockworkers Union building. My Dad's lawyer friend stood from the table when we entered. He had a big smile on, and was enthusiastically shaking my dad's hand.

"Danny, good to see you. Glad I could lend a hand." He turned to me. I'm not sure what I expected to see. Pity, in regards to all my bullying? Excitement, at meeting a cape? Some other emotion I probably wouldn't be able to discern due to my utter lack of social skills?

What I got was none of those. A big smile; an affable, dare I say honest expression on his face, as he reached out and shook my hand. He was an older guy, easily in his 50's or 60's, but in good shape. A nice suit, but not so nice he'd be mugged walking home a bit before dark.

I decided on the spot that I liked him.

"My name's David Wheeler. I'm glad we could find a time to meet. Hear you've got yourself into a bit of a pickle with a contract? Smart to get it looked at. The PRT is sneaky; they like to slip stuff in between the lines. Don't you worry. We'll get you sorted out in an hour, two at the most."

I beamed a smile at him. Why couldn't everybody be this nice? It's easy to talk to people who are this nice, and friendly. Maybe it's because he's older? There's less pressure, I suppose.

"It's nice to meet you Mr. Wheeler. I appreciate you taking the time to meet with us."

"Just so we're all on the same page here," Dad started "how much for the full two hours? Just want us squared away up front."

"Oh don't you worry about that, young man." The idea that my Dad could be considered young was frightening to me. "You've kept my little Bill in work during these hard times. Least I can do is spare you a couple hours after I've shut the lights off at the practice. If this takes more than a few hours, I'll eat my hat."

I was tempted to point out that he wasn't wearing a hat, but he just seemed so earnest that I couldn't bring myself to do it.

"So, I took the time to look over the paperwork, and I'll be honest. This is a pretty standard package. But I understand that your situation is a bit peculiar, so we'll go through your concerns one by one, alright? The trust fund and payment are normal for Wards, and I wouldn't touch that with a ten-foot pole. They get real peculiar about money at the PRT. It's a $50,000 a year trust fund for continuing education, and minimum wage with a chance for merit increases every year. That work for you?"

"That's fine." I speak up. "I'm not really in this for the money. I want to help people, and I want to get away from Winslow. Those are my only two concerns."

"Good, good. Most people think about getting rich and famous. It'll be nice to have a hero around who's looking out for the little guy." He winked at me. I feel like I accidentally entered the 1960's, this guy is amazing.

He continues "Now, there is one thing that used to be standard in these contracts that was excluded here. And it's a bit of a sticky subject. This is something I think every contract should have; I'm not saying anything about you personally, understand?" I nod before he goes on. "Used to be that every Protectorate, Ward, and PRT HQ had their own in house therapist. Don't know when exactly they got rid of it, but I hate that they did. Basically, I want to copy and paste their old wording from previous contracts on their requirements to give you a therapist."

I almost spoke up to say I didn't need a therapist, but I stopped myself. I looked at my Dad, and slowly got an idea. "Is it possible for them to pay for therapy for my whole family, not just me? I mean, I know that being a hero is going to be stressful on my Dad. I don't want him to have to spend extra money just because I'm trying to do the right thing."

And that's the truth. I really was worried about my Dad. I can only imagine that he was having as hard of a time with all this as I was. At the very least, it could be a first step on our road to recovering from Mom, and becoming a family again.

Man, having powers just kept getting better and better.

"Good, then. I'll put that bit back in. They'll be required to provide a therapist and pay for two monthly sessions for family members, or pay for 6 monthly sessions for use between yourself and family members.

"Now, one last big item, before we get down to boring details. The wording they have here about your schooling states that they will make a reasonable effort to get you out of Winslow, or to alternately provide a safe environment."

I was really hoping the next words out of his mouth would be that he had a way to fix it.

"Now Taylor. Your Dad and I have talked a little about your situation, but I'd like to hear it from you. When did you get your powers? I don't want specifics, just a general idea."

"When I woke up from my coma. After…" well, he said he had talked to my Dad. He probably already knew. "After I was shoved in the locker."

Mr. Wheeler had a nasty look on his face.

"Do you know what a Trigger Event is, dear?"

I had never heard that term before, and I told him as such.

"I've worked with capes before, so don't be ashamed. Every cape has one. It's generally considered the worst day of your life. So, I wouldn't be so crass as to ask for specifics, but if you Triggered at school, we have grounds to make it so you can't legally be required to ever set foot in Winslow again unless it's related to a Wards or Protectorate mission. The PRT would either have to get you into a new school, pay for tutors, or sign you up for online schooling. How does that sound?"

"That would be perfect. You could really do that?"

"I'm surprised they didn't do it already. I'd be willing to guess they didn't know you Triggered at school, or they probably would have already added something like this to the contract." His voice was gentle as he explained all the details to me, and I felt immensely better that we'd taken the opportunity to contact a lawyer.

We spent the next hour and half going over some of the details of the contract with a fine tooth comb. Rewording, and restructuring sentences. Making sure I fully understood what I was signing. And at the end of our two hours, I was smiling just as wide as Mr. Wheeler was.

It was on our drive home that Dad finally brought up the topic I knew he'd been holding on to since the meeting.

"So, you think I need a shrink, huh?" He had a smile on his face, so he was mostly kidding.

"Honestly, Dad? I _know_ that we both do. Neither of us has really ever dealt with losing Mom." His hands tightened on the steering wheel. His knuckles turned white. "And we're finally starting to get back on the same page. To being a family again. I don't want that to end. I know us. We'll bottle up our emotions, and without Mom around to make us talk about them, we'll just try and keep it all inside until one of us explodes. I don't want us to explode."

"I know you're right," he sighed, "but it'll be weird. You know my Dad. Grandpa was one tough son of a bitch. If he knew I was going to therapy, he'd grab me by the neck, take me to a bar down on the docks, and tell me to have a drink and get over it. That's… It's hard to remember that that's not the way I'm supposed to handle things."

I wasn't sure, but I thought that might have been the first time I'd ever heard my Dad swear when he knew I could hear him. I used to hear him swear when he and Mom would argue, but never in front of me. I wasn't sure if he realized he had done it, but it was nice. I imagined it represented that, even though things would never be the same, we were getting closer again.

Or maybe I was just overly sappy.

I enjoyed the companionable silence for the next few minutes.

"You wouldn't… really move to Chicago. Would you?" Well that wasn't what I expected him to ask.

"If this contract stays the way it is? No, probably not. They'll have to find me a way into Arcadia, Immaculata, or Clarendon. Or they'd have to get me a tutor. But if they don't agree to that part of the contract? I think I would rather move than go back to Winslow."

"I can understand that." He seemed to be thinking hard. "Chicago doesn't do as much shipping as the Bay. But there are other unions I could join, if I can't get a job on the docks."

I was too shocked to say anything. "I couldn't ask you to move away from the Bay, Dad. I would miss you, more than anything. I love the Bay almost as much as you do, and I love you even more. I would miss you like crazy, but the Docks are your life. What about the Boat Graveyard? Revitalizing our shipping industry? It's your dream!"

"My dream is to see you grow up, happy and safe. That's what it was always about for me. Making a better life for everyone else, but most especially for you… and for your Mom. And now it's all about you. So, if you need to be in Chicago to be safe, then of course I'd come with you."

I was too shocked to say anything. So instead I just reached a hand over to squeeze his hand.

It seemed like everything was looking up.

* * *

A/N: Short chapter this week. Trying to keep a regular posting schedule, but I'm not sure how long I'll be able to keep it up. Thanks to assembler and wizerd00 for beta reading this chapter!


End file.
